#first shift (mike s.)

[angeloftrumpets]

Thinking about the other f/o 🥹🥹🥹

[fazbearnightwatch]

TAG DUMP

[bigsloppycrush]

collagen [eddie munson]

there was a time while eddie was still healing when he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. eddie’s always been the kind to lick his wounds in private, and for a while it felt like he was all wound. 8k.

undead!eddie (kind of), f!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, angst, first kiss, processing trauma, lots of talk of scars. cross-posted to ao3. originally inspired by my idol @luveline 's fic 'love bites'. go read it.

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Eddie stares at himself in the small mirror of the medicine cabinet. He contemplates his body from the waist up, trying to discern if any of his scars appear a little fainter, a little less noticeable. His face seems to have healed nicely, no raised skin despite the slightly uneven colouration in places. His body is a different story; deeper wounds heal differently. He’s been using the fancy oil Wayne got him after every shower. He isn’t sure it’s really making a difference but it smells good so he uses it anyways.

Eddie spent a long time recovering after the Upside Down, feeling and looking like the undead. Face gaunt, hair limp, skin marbled with reds, browns, blues. Most days he still feels only half alive. On good days, he plays it up in his mind. How metal is it to be the world’s first zombie, he thinks to himself. On worse days, he can’t do much other than rot in his bed, unsure if he was ever meant to make it out alive.

He traces the big scar he deems the worst of his collection, ghosting his fingertips down his neck, towards his chest. He gets lost in the sensation, absentmindedly running over skin, scar, skin, scar. The thought of you flits into his head and for a moment, Eddie wonders what your fingers would feel like on his chest. He gets carried away briefly, entertaining the fantasy of intimacy. He can’t remember the last time he welcomed the physical sensation of someone else’s skin on his. Certainly it had to have been before he became Hawkins' resident zombie. In the safety of his head, in the privacy of his small bathroom, he rules that your fingertips would feel like angel kisses all over. But what would your lips feel like? The question enters his mind and he flushes, embarrassed to be having thoughts like this about you. You were his coworker and also his friend, and friends do not think about their other friends’ lips.

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dispel the phantom pleasure of your imagined touch. Everything is tingling as he steps into the shower.

X

You're mouthing the words to the song stuck in your head as you step outside. You meet Eddie out front of the Radio Shack that employs half of the young adults in Hawkins, the both of you included. You shrug off the thin hoodie you wear to work, stuffing it into your tote. Eddie looks up at you, eyes tracing your bare arms. He pulls his sweater a little further down his wrists before meeting your smile and offering a charmingly timid greeting.

You've noticed that Eddie’s a diligent type, always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave no matter the occasion. Maybe diligent isn’t the right word. Considerate, maybe. Today, you find him sitting on the curb, patiently waiting for you to finish your shift, unsure of how long he'd been there. On this momentous Wednesday Eddie is taking you to the movies. Not alone, not this time, though it’s something he thinks about. Something pulpy just hit theatres and the kids are just dying to see it. Dustin, having begged Eddie to drive, is dragging everyone out for the evening.

Backtracking into town, Eddie drives the way to pick up Dustin and Lucas, then Mike and El. Steve would be meeting you at the theatre after grabbing Robin and Max. The heat of the day has broken now, the sun getting close to setting. When you ask Eddie about his day, he tries not to look at you for too long in the pinkening light.

“Any progress today?” You ask when you catch his eyes.

“Nah, not much. Was too hot to think.”

Eddie’s been writing lots of music lately. Fewer lyrics, more riffs and melodies. It’s something that brings him out of his head and into his body. He loves the way his guitar strings feel under his fingers and the way the vibrations from the instrument’s body feel against him. He preens a little at your interest. He’s glad you think his music is cool, glad he can share this part of himself with you.

“You should come write in the Shack, it’s fucking freezing in there.”

“And distract you from repairing Steve’s Walkman for the third time?”

“Maybe if you played live he’d have less reason to keep using the poor thing. I keep telling him to just buy a new one.”

“Imagine a rock concert by the VCRs. For one day only: Eddie Munson and The Tapes.”

You make a noise imitating roaring applause and Eddie laughs.

“When are you finally gonna play for me?” You tease. “I’ll keep asking until it happens.”

“You’ll have to buy a ticket just like everyone else, sweetheart.” He glances at you to make sure he got his tone right and he’s pleased when you scrunch your nose at him. Little pieces of himself seem to find their way back to him when he’s with you.

“You really should���ve picked Dustin up first, you know.”

Eddie had hardly registered entering the suburbs. There was no world in which he was ever going to pass up the chance to have a few minutes alone with you. Most of your time together is spent at work or in the company of your mutual friends. Sure, he’s gotten to know you pretty well, and sure, it’s not like you never get the chance to talk one-on-one. It’s just that recently he’s been wondering what it would be like to have you all to himself for a day, to have more time alone with you outside of Radio Shack shifts and outside of the brief stretches of time when everyone else is busy talking to each other.

“So he could ride shotgun? No way.” Eddie’s eyes glint at you. If he had been braver in the moment he might have said something about your seat being reserved for pretty girls but he’s still working on his courage.

Your answering smile warms him, his hands now a little tighter on the wheel.

The theatre is busy by Hawkins standards and there’s a line at concessions by the time all of you are assembled. The kids decide to forgo popcorn to try and get good seats, and leave the adults (air quotes around that word) to make their decisions. You laugh as Steve and Robin bicker about whether or not to get a combo and which one would really be better value. Piping in at first then backing off, it’s clear you recognize your input won’t help or speed things along. Still, you watch amused as your friends have it out. Eddie thinks it’s sweet, both his friends and your patience for their antics. He wants to get involved, rib Steve a little, but he’s starting to feel antsy.

Eddie feels hypervisible to all people who aren’t his people. It’s like everyone in Hawkins can sense the death radiating off of him, his aura drawing unkind eyes and whispers. He starts edging slowly towards the theatre hoping either Steve or Robin might get the hint. As the slow minutes stretch on, he feels his clothes itching against his skin. It’s not that his friends aren’t usually attentive, they’re the best friends he’s ever had. They just get caught up in their fun and he can’t fault them for that.

Eddie almost startles when he notices you noticing his, frankly, scared expression and posture before you turn back to Steve and Robin. There’s a searing second in which Eddie is terrified you’re judging him, that you’ve seen through him and straight into his damage. He hasn’t been in very many vulnerable positions around you and you’ve yet to see him really panic. It's much easier to hold down his anxiety in when he's safe in Steve's basement. He doesn’t know how much you know, how much anyone else has told you about what happened. He knows you’re kind to the others and that they feel comfortable around you, but Eddie knows he’s different. He knows you’ve picked up on his aversion to closeness and his constant modesty. He’s broken in a way the others aren’t. He doesn’t know how to make sense of that. He’s terrified that he’s too fucked to ever re-enter society outside of his fellow survivors. He’s terrified of himself.

He watches as you put your hand on Robin’s arm catching her attention just long enough to let her know you’re heading inside and then turn back to Eddie, nodding your head towards the theatre. You take the first few steps slowly, waiting for him to follow.

And just like that, he feels seen.

Not in the way he usually does, not like you’re surveilling or assessing him. Like you get him. Like you don't mind all the weird.

Eddie trails behind you, eyes still a little wide. When you ask him quietly where he wants to sit he gestures non-committally to some seats nearby. You nod and pick a spot not too far from the door, no indication that you’d rather venture further in to be closer to the screen. Settling in, Eddie tries to breathe quietly, glad there’s nobody on his other side. He’s overly aware of his skin, his scars. Everything is warm. He thinks it’s an anxiety thing, this new full body sensation. He never felt like this before everything.

“You okay?”

You float the question casually, eyes fixed on the previews to give Eddie a moment of privacy. He nods lightly to himself more than anything before whispering an affirmative. Your gaze finally turns to his and you smile softly, your hand reaching for him. Your open palm hovers over his wrist on the armrest between you for a millisecond and he watches you catch yourself, thinking twice.

“Sorry, I should ask before I touch.” You say, withdrawing. You’re still smiling at him.

His body lights up again. You see him. He feels like you see him.

You turn back towards the screen, hand settling in your lap. He knows you well enough now to know you feel a little embarrassed that you reached for him without thinking. He wishes you didn't. He wishes he knew how to tell you he doesn't mind anything you do, ever.

When Eddie gets home later after dropping you off, he won’t remember most of the movie. He’ll remember how he spent the first act imagining your touch and daring himself to do… something. He’ll remember his heartbeat as he eventually, finally reached for your hand and how soft it was against his. He’ll remember the way you gently squeezed his fingers and the heat that rocketed through him. He’ll remember that you didn’t let go until he did, and that his palms itched against the steering wheel the whole way home.

X

A girl is in Eddie’s room. A real live girl is in Eddie Munson’s room. You are the real live girl in Eddie Munson’s room and he’s trying so hard not to freak the fuck out. He didn’t exactly mean for this to happen but, well, you’re here now and he’s doing his best to roll with it.

You don’t work every shift with Eddie, your hours far outnumbering his, but most of his shifts are ones he works with you. Today was one of those days when you were in together but not one where you got to talk as much as he’d have liked to. His favourite shifts are when you’re both on repair. Paired with anyone else he establishes his space, setting up on a small section of countertop off to the side and out of the way. With you though, he’s learned not to curl in on himself so tightly. He’s grown accustomed to and even excited for the chance that you might share tools or that your small bits and bobs might bleed into the space of his small odds and ends. Eddie Munson is not a yearner by any means but god does he spend a stupid amount of time hoping you might brush fingers or elbows while on the clock. Today was a let down in that you were on inventory while he was in his usual spot at the counter. Not only was he unable to figure out what was wrong with the radio he was working on, he also did not get to spend six hours working beside you. You, being as sweet as you are pretty, snuck over when you could though. He both loved and hated feeling you lingering over his shoulder when your manager wasn't looking.

On the whole, Eddie missed you today, which he felt weird saying in his head. So when you asked him about his after work plans (of which there were none) and he asked you about yours (also none), he asked if you wanted to hang out with him before he could think about it for too long. Or think about it at all. In an extended moment of bravery, or maybe brainlessness, Eddie seems to have invited you over and shown you into his room.

Eddie never really liked bringing people home. It wasn’t due to embarrassment exactly, it was something closer to a kind of fierce protectiveness. Eddie loves his trailer and his uncle. Lifetimes ago, when he used to invite people in more loosely, it wasn’t uncommon for people to look out of place there, their stiff bodies lingering close to the door.

You look perfect though. Like the right throw blanket, or a new window, or something else that’s supposed to tie a room together. Eddie isn’t sure how to qualify exactly what it is he thinks you add to his bedroom, but he's never really been good at interior design. Or having girls over.

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie’s delivery is half-hearted as his hands find his pockets. He stands in the door frame in what he knows is an awkward approximation of appearing relaxed. You respond enthusiastically, making up for his hesitation. Eyes wide and curious you take a few cautious steps around his space.

“Cool.” You breathe softly, and Eddie knows you’re being sincere.

Tidier than he used to be, his bed is made and his stuff is somewhat neat. Your hands skim over his nightstand and the clutter on it. Dice, figurines, guitar picks and a book lying spine up. Eddie tries to shake the tension in his back but he finds he can't help it. He really, really wants you to like him, even though he's already pretty sure you do. He finds he feels naked despite his usual armour of long-sleeved shirt and baggy joggers.

Turning back towards him, your eyes catch on the shiny red thing hung against his wall. Laying pretty between two dark and dramatic posters, it's easy to tell that Eddie's guitar is a highly treasured possession. This is where Eddie feels confident jumping in.

“This,” he gestures grandly, “Is Sweetheart.”

You ooo appropriately as he takes her down for you to look at.

“She’s a B.C. Rich Warlock, I bought her brand new a few years ago. I saved up for months before I turned 16 and Wayne still had to spot me."

You smile at the pride and fondness in Eddie's voice. He looks pretty like this, eyes turned down, soft and adoring.

“She, huh? I knew there had to be someone special in your life.”

He looks up from the instrument's body, unsure about what exactly you’re poking fun at.

“You’re a catch,” you clarify, “I knew there was no way you were really single.”

Eddie ducks his head quickly before trying to meet your gaze again. He fails at this, eyes jumping right back down to Sweetheart, flattery and insecurity flaring equally inside of him.

"I'd love to hear you play something." Your tone, imploring though not pleading, has the most ridiculous pull on his heart.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, any requests?" Eddie is still trying to be brave.

"Whatever you think I'll like." Your smile makes him ache. "You think about it while I snoop some more."

Your attention is quickly captured by his small yet packed bookshelf. The warmth in his chest persists as he watches you tilt your head sideways to read the titles. Setting down on his bed, Eddie tucks his legs into a crisscross. What would you like? Eddie reckons you like a bit of everything so he thinks he could maybe pick a rock ballad? Something not too heavy but still true to his tastes.

Noodling a little to ease his nerves Eddie can feel the seam of his sleeve pressing uncomfortably between his guitar and his arm. He usually gets changed when he’s home, shedding his shirt in favour of one of his DIY tank tops and his pants in favour of his boxers. He often finds it warm in the trailer and he knows he’s safe here. Thinking about it, he realizes he never plays his guitar with long sleeves on anymore. He decides right then and there that it's uncomfortable and that he doesn’t like doing it. This, of course, is problematic for a few reasons. For one, you’re here in his room and you’ve never seen anything more than slips of Eddie’s wrists, ankles and collarbones. He knows you know something’s wrong with him. Or, rather, he knows you know he has scars. Anyone would notice how they peek out of his clothes in places, not to mention the unevenness of his face. As he plucks away tensely, Eddie weighs his options. He could suck it up and suffer through the sensory hell he’s experiencing, but that’s not seeming very feasible. He could change and put a tank top on, but that might be a bit more exposure than he’s ready for.

“You don’t actually have to play me anything if you’re not ready. I know I can be a little pushy.”

Eddie looks up to meet your soft smile from over your shoulder. Knelt in front of the book shelf, you've twisted around to speak to him. He knows you mean it, and for some reason that makes him all the more desperate to show off. Setting his guitar aside, he rubs his palms against his thighs. He opens his mouth but he’s not entirely sure what to say.

“You can tell me about your books instead? I keep hearing about Carrie, is it any good?”

The sweetness of your redirection dries his mouth. Leaving Sweetheart on the bed, Eddie comes to sit beside you and pulls his collection of Stephen King novels from their places. By the time you leave, you've taken a couple books to borrow and Eddie's promised to rent The Shining for you to watch together. His heart is still a little frenetic driving you home.

Eddie parks in your driveway and there's a pause in which neither of you wants to be the first to say goodbye. As you look at each other from opposite sides of his van, Eddie's chest squeezes and he can't tell if he's getting closer or if you are. He's not sure if you actually make noise when you tell him you'll see him tomorrow at work but he reads your lips all the same. He reaches out to squeeze your hand and you squeeze back, reluctant to let go. But you do, eventually, and Eddie watches to make sure you shut the door behind you after giving him one last wave. Pulling away, he can still smell you in the van's closed circuit of air. He waits until he's a little past the point of overheating to open the windows on the drive home.

X

Sometimes Eddie thinks about quitting his job. Every now and again his life will catch up to him and he thinks about leaving. Leaving his trailer, leaving town, leaving the circle of everyone he knows. He gets swept up by the urge to disappear until Wayne asks him to do his dishes or Steve calls to try and get him out of the house. Then it's all guilt. Where would he go? Would going somewhere else really solve anything? Was this urge really even about leaving at all? Really, he knows what happened to him isn't his fault. What happened to all of them was a freak accident, a case of being in the wrong place at the right time. But it's hard to heal. It's so hard to keep moving when he knows he's not the same and he never will be again. He knows Wayne is overworked and Steve gets worried. Dustin misses him all the time but most days he just… can't. Can't do anything at all. It's a hollowed kind of existence, living in the shape of the person you used to be. The old Eddie left some surprisingly big shoes behind when he went into the Upside-down. This new Eddie has no clue how to fill them.

Wayne is asleep on the couch when Eddie gets in. It's only seven and the TV is playing a sports game that's mostly static. Eddie considers going over to thump the thing so it clears but he'd rather not risk waking up Wayne. Not like he's watching the game anyways.

Shuffling into his room he drops back onto his bed. His head hurts and he knows he should probably have some water. His eyes close slowly. Five seconds of dark, five seconds of lamp light. Letting his head loll to the side, he enjoys the light stretch in his neck. His tired eyes find his bookshelf and the new empty spaces between books where you'd taken them from. On top of everything else to think or not think about, there was also you.

It's weird to want something. For what feels like a long time now, Wayne has been doing all the necessary wanting for him. He goes to work, he sees his friends, he tries to keep the house clean because Wayne wants that for him. Eddie has no problem with that, he's fine listening to someone else. It's nice, honestly. It's some kind of direction at least. But wanting something himself? It feels foreign. Especially not knowing what exactly it is that he wants, or even what he's allowed to want. Wayne tells him all the time: Slow down, son. One day at a time. Or one hour or one minute if that's what'll get you through it. That kind of works when he's trying to get to the other side of bad day, but he's unsure if that can apply to other people too. Is he allowed to just want to see you again, as soon as possible? Is he allowed to want to try to hold your hand and to drive you home as much as you'll let him? Does he have to know exactly how he wants this to go? Because he doesn't. And he doesn't know if or when he will.

Listless, Eddie pulls himself up and into the bathroom. Drinking from the faucet, he splashes his face while he's at it. Cold water is his friend. Although he scrubs his face dry with a towel, the hair framing his face stays wet. Eddie looks the guy in the mirror in the eyes, deeply. Was this someone who acted normal? Was this someone who was, like, bearable to spend time around? Was this someone who could have a relationship? Of any kind? He wonders how he appears to you.

Reaching across himself, Eddie ghosts his hand over his bicep. Brushing lightly against his loose sleeve he tries to recreate the feeling of you knelt beside him, arms side by side but not touching. His own hand is cold where you had been slightly warm. Reaching down to hold his wrist he wonders if he would feel soft to the touch. He's sort of desensitized to the terrain of his skin, he can't really judge objectively whether or not it would feel wrong to someone else. Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, Eddie cringes. He's being weird, he knows. If Wayne had been awake, he would have called after Eddie by now, telling him to stop spending so much time in front of the mirror and asking him to open the bathroom door. Grimacing, Eddie turns the bathroom light off before brushing his teeth in the dark.

X

When Eddie opens his door he finds you vibrating on his porch. All week, you've been excited to watch The Shining. He knows this because you told him when he saw you at work on Monday, and again on Wednesday, and because Steve had teased him after you had told him, too. He did a good job of denying anything was "going on", as Steve put it, and he had assured Robin that nothing was "going to happen" when she caught wind of it too. This was just a simple movie night between two friends with shared interests. Totally casual.

Your grin is infectious. You haven't even said anything other than hello and he's smiling hard, a mirror of your excitement. You don't even wait until you're fully inside before your thoughts start spilling out of you.

"I finished Carrie in like two days, it was insane! I got caught reading behind the counter at work and got told off but I was bewitched, I actually could not stop reading."

Eddie kindly takes your hoodie from around your shoulders and the packs of microwave popcorn of your hands. You continue to talk animatedly as the smell of butter starts to fill Eddie's small kitchen.

"I felt so bad for her, and honestly, I think everything she did was perfectly justifiable. I mean imagine you're seventeen and prom is, like, the representation of freedom and getting to leave everything behind, and then you can't even enjoy it! The one thing you've been dreaming of for years is ruined!"

"Oh for sure, I'd go batshit too. What did you think of the blood bucket? So much more metal than paint, right?"

"It was awful! Like that's actually so cruel, it made me sick." You grimace.

"You're going to love The Shining then." Eddie grins.

Your brows pinch with worry as Eddie's smile only grows.

"What does that mean? Eddie, what does that mean?"

Eddie says nothing more on the matter to your displeasure and his amusement. You whine at him and he laughs at you while he transfers the popcorn to a bowl.

Eddie's hand twitches, too shy to press against your back as he leads you to the couch and something strange swells in his heart when you fall back into the cushions and tuck your legs up under you, looking at ease. He can hear Steve and Robin's voices in his head as he sits down next to you after starting the VCR. Steve's voice reminds him to keep his hands to himself and Robin's chirps at him to leave room for jesus. You shift a little closer to Eddie to make sure he has access to the popcorn bowl and suddenly his skin is hot. The inch of couch between you is both way too close and way too fucking far.

Yep. Totally casual.

Eddie's seen this one before so he doesn't have to pay attention as hard as you are. He loves The Shining so of course he's paying attention, he's just also fine with missing a few of the things happening on screen in order to watch your reaction to them instead. You're rapt. On edge but having a good time, Eddie thinks. He's thrilled to hear your commentary, your low voice in his ear buzzing through him. He's endeared by how fond you are of Danny, and you point out details he'd never think to notice on his own.

It isn't long after the movie starts before you're pressed together, arm against arm, leg against leg. It's not surprising, that's just what happens when two people sit on a couch together. What is surprising though, is how warm you run, and how desperate he is to keep you right where you are despite his predisposition to overheating. He wants so badly to push his sleeves up to allow his skin to cool down a little but he hesitates. Last time you were here, he couldn't do it. He had still been too worried about making a perfect impression, or at least a good one, and he couldn't risk his scars ruining that. But you came back, Eddie reasons. You were back in his house, sitting next to him, excited to spend time with him. Maybe if he moves slowly enough, you won't even notice. He'll cool down a little and then he can cover up again when he's good. He settles tentatively on that plan of action and inches his sleeves up as inconspicuously as possible.

You do not, in fact, notice the newly revealed expanses of Eddie's skin. You're far too busy whispering warnings to Danny as if he can hear you. Clutching the now empty bowl to your chest, your eyes are fixed on the screen, wide with trepidation. But to your, and Danny's, immense surprise, something flashes on screen and you flinch. You all but leap onto Eddie, your hands reaching for and holding his arm, pulling it against your chest, bowl cast to the floor. Automatically, Eddie tenses.

Sure you’d brushed by each other before, usually knuckles against knuckles as you walked or a hand on a shoulder in passing, and sure you'd held hands on one or two occasions. But this was different. You were holding him, feeling his scars with your hands for the first time. It was strange to him, to feel skin on his skin after so long. It didn't hurt like he'd worried. It didn't burn or spark or sear. It was soft. And clearly his skin wasn't made of barbed wire like he believed. You weren't letting go. You hadn't recoiled or even reacted at all. He felt exceedingly…..normal.

Eddie was still sitting stiffly when the scene ended and you released your breath, hands still holding onto him. You turn your face up to him, eyes wide and ready to laugh off the scare when you notice the tension in his shoulders. You notice where his eyes are stuck and you pull your hands away, immediately understanding. 

“Oh! Eddie, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You shift over on the couch to make space between your bodies and for some reason the small distance between you distresses Eddie more than the feeling of your hand on his arm had. Eddie realizes his awe may have read as shock��or horror and he needs to correct that. He reaches for you before he really thinks about it, hand grasping just above your knee, tugging your thigh ever so gently back towards him.

“No– I mean, I’m fine, are you fine?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

“No, it’s okay, I uh, I just– I haven’t been touched in a while?” The end of his sentence pitches up into a question.

His arm stays extended in the space between you. He wonders if this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment where the other shoe drops. He knows you’re a more tactile person than he is, never shying away from Steve’s bear hugs or Robin’s cheek kisses. He knows you respect his boundaries profoundly, and that you'd never want to make him uncomfortable. It's too much to try and articulate in the moment, how weirdly comfortable he feels around you, but he hopes you can still understand the intimacy of his hand on your leg, the heavy meaning of the action. 

You blink at him. The movie keeps playing in the background, casting alternating warm and cool tones across your faces. More firmly, he starts to pull your thigh back against him, and the rest of your body follows. He leaves his hand where it is, hoping you understand what he's offering. He doesn't think you know what to say but that doesn't matter. When you curl lightly around his arm again he thinks you get it. You press a shy cheek against his bicep and his body is all nerves.

When the blood finally spills out of the Overlook's elevators, you hold him tighter, turning into his shoulder to avoid looking.

"Come on, you're missing it! This is, like, the best part."

"That's so fucked up, Eddie."

You're not amused but he laughs, glowing as he rubs his thumb over the inside of your knee.

X

There was a time while Eddie was still healing when he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Eddie’s always been the kind to lick his wounds in private, and for a while it felt like he was all wound. He’s since come around to light touches. He can handle Steve’s arm around his shoulder, Robin's hip bumps, Dustin's side hugs. But there’s still something about letting people touch his skin that makes him squirm. At the root of it, he’s embarrassed. There's a shame that comes with major illness or injury that's difficult to understand. Steve recognizes it, though. Steve also recognizes that something's changing in Eddie. Steve would still absolutely call Eddie a sulky baby, but he's definitely different when you're around. Maybe it's that Eddie's less scared, less convinced that there's not a place for him anywhere. Whatever it is, it's nice. It helps Steve relax a little too, knowing Eddie's alright.

Steve knows he's staring but he can't help it. You're sharing a chair with Eddie, having come around from your end of the table to listen to whatever Dustin and Eddie are arguing about. Dustin's pointing agitatedly at the menu, likely dying on a hill of little consequence. It's as if they've never been here before despite Benny's being the only place in town that can always accommodate a group of twelve without notice. The seats are small so you're all but on top of Eddie. Your arm comes up behind one of his shoulders and, if Steve were to hazard a guess, Eddie's probably holding your leg against his own under the table. Steve wonders why you didn't just sit together to begin with. Eddie feels Steve watching and sends him a less than discrete middle finger. Totally casual my ass.

Eventually you give up on sharing and Eddie makes Mike switch seats with you so that you can be across from him. After Dustin finally settles and everybody orders, he's surprised to see Eddie sharing. He holds his burger (featuring quite a unique combination of toppings) out for you to take bites and you let him sip your milkshake in exchange. In contrast, Eddie's hand keeps slapping Dustin's away when he reaches for some of his fries. Very subtle.

“Apparently, when you get scurvy, all the collagen in your body starts to break down. Your scar tissue dissolves and every wound you've ever had reopens.” You tell this to an enthusiastic audience. You're embellishing a little, knowing the boys are prone to theatrics, but it's all in good fun.

"That's so sick." Dustin enthuses while Mike and Lucas agree.

The kids, having recently rented some stupid movie, are now deeply interested in running a pirate themed campaign.

"That could work as a hazard, what do you guys think? Instead of starvation the effect could be scurvy." Will is writing quickly into his notebook, looking down while he listens to the ensuing clamour.

"Where'd you learn that?" Eddie prompts you while the kids start to bicker about whether vitamin C potions should exist in game.

“Some article online. I was reading about afflictions."

"Afflictions? Slow down, Heathcliff, you know regular people say sickness, right?"

"Watch it, geek. You know regular people don't have Wuthering Heights memorized, right?"

You're both smiling impishly at each other, greatly diminishing the bite of your words. Eddie throws a fry weakly in your direction and you reach over to flick his fingers. Robin pokes Steve to ask if he's seeing what she's seeing.

"Totally casual my ass." She whispers.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Steve mutters.

After dinner, when the kids are unlocking their bikes and Robin's already waiting in his car, Steve watches Eddie close the passenger door of his van once you're safely inside. Steve's not stupid, he can see exactly what's happening. Eddie is stupid though, and probably doesn't have a clue what to do with himself. When Eddie catches Steve watching from across the parking lot, Steve smiles big. Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically and gets in the van, looking to make sure you're buckled before backing out.

X

Tucked into bed after work, Eddie counts the things in his room like he does every night to help him fall asleep. Eight corners, seven posters, one dresser with five drawers, four pairs of shoes shoved under said dresser, three shirts that missed the laundry basket, one lamp. There are less books on his book shelf than usual. He counts 33 out of his usual 37. You're still holding on to his Stephen King books even though you've already read through them all but Eddie doesn't mind.

Today was a difficult day. In true undead fashion, there was just something about excessive sunlight that bothered Eddie. It was maybe less about the sunlight and more about the uptick of reminders of his brokenness. Seeing Sarah Teagan from high school holding hands with a shirtless Kevin Cooper on their way to the pool on a beautiful day was irritating. Knowing Robin was going to watch an outdoor movie with some new friends in the park was cutting. Catching wary glares from behind sunglasses while he ducked into the gas station was steamrolling. Sunglasses don't make you imperceptible, people. It's the wishing that gets to him. He wishes and wishes and wishes. Eddie wishes he could walk shirtless down main street. He wishes he could make friends effortlessly. He wishes anything, everything was different.

It's not all bad, though. He takes great pains to remind himself of this. He might not buy into gratitude journals but he still knows it's good to remember the things he likes, the things he's looking forward to. He's DMing a game for the boys next week and he can tell they're frothing at the mouth to play. Steve scored two tickets to a rock festival in Indianapolis next month. He has this weekend off. With any luck, you might even want to see him sometime soon.

Turning his head into his pillow, Eddie feels his face start to warm. Despite having known you for a little while now, you were still a new development. It had been a long time since Eddie blushed at such a frequency. It was profoundly humiliating. He never blushed in high school. But obviously, lifetimes had passed since then. He was a different person now, mentally and physically. He’s more nervous, less confident, worse at flirting. When he blushes, he feels it in his whole body. He becomes overly aware of his skin, his scars. Everything kind of fizzes. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, it’s just unnerving. It makes him feel vulnerable, like he might come apart at the seams. In his head he avoids the obvious, that there's really only one cause for this new angst. If he pretends, he can believe he's not obvious. If he pretends, he can believe you can't tell.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie shuts his eyes tight feeling all kinds of miserable and lonely and, worst of all, hopeful. He turns onto his stomach and falls asleep with the light on.

X

Summer will soon come to a close in Hawkins but for now the sun still beats down.

On a blanket spread out on the grass behind Steve's pool, you and Eddie sit next to each other drinking twin pouches of juice. Eddie thinks you’re a strange pair, you in your swimsuit and him in long pants. He's traded his usual long sleeve for a t-shirt because of the weather, feeling only slightly, kind of, just a little bit, completely, utterly naked. He can feel how warm your skin is when your arm brushes against his and he knows you should both find a way to cool down soon. Steve is losing to Lucas in a cannon ball competition scored by the other boys. A much calmer Robin, El and Max are hanging out the shallow end of the pool.

Sore loser that he is, Steve eventually huffs his way across the yard while the boys yell after him. Eddie looks up to find his dripping body towering directly over your sitting forms.

“And how can we help you, Steve?” Eddie sounds grumpy. The heat must be cooking him.

With a wicked grin Steve shakes his head hard, spraying you with pool water. You squeal and Eddie groans, much to Steve's amusement.

“You dog!” You chastise, wiping water from your face.

“As if you weren't about to get in the pool.” Steve snips lightheartedly, setting down hard on the blanket near the both of you.

“I was going to. Later. When I felt like it. On my own terms.”

“Get a load of sassy.” Steve addresses Eddie as if you can't hear. You reach over to punch Steve’s arm.

You decide, stressing that the decision is solely of your own volition, that it's time to get in the pool. Steve laughs at you as you get up because he knows it'll wind you up.

"You're a shit." Eddie admonishes.

"You can join her if you want, lover boy."

Eddie narrows his eyes, choosing not to answer so as not to give Steve more ammunition.

Steve leans back on the blanket, propping himself on his elbows and sprawling his legs out parallel to Eddie. There’s a calm silence in which Steve suns himself and Eddie watches you in the water. The skin across your shoulders and the back of your neck has already started to darken, he doubts you put on sunscreen. You and Robin are motioning wildly, very likely as part of a game the two of you invented sometime in the last two minutes. A breeze shoots by him, sneaking up into his sleeve and he misses having your body beside his. He’s not sure how he should be reacting to Steve teasing him about you. He knows he’s been acting out of character. He’s coming out more, wanting to go where you go. He smiles more often. His laughter comes easier. He's pulled towards you, comfortable enough to let himself touch and be touched in little ways, even in front of the group.

“You can give yourself permission.” Saying this, Steve keeps his eyes closed, still sunning.

“What?”

“Like, to be happy.”

“What are you, my therapist?” Eddie’s words come out with a little more bite than he wanted. He can feel himself recoiling from a possible moment of vulnerability and the overbearing heat is not helping his mood.

“Eddie, it’s okay.” Steve opens his eyes to look at him earnestly. “It’s good that you feel good, it’s great even. You can give yourself permission."

Eddie twists his mouth. He wants to tell Steve he doesn't know anything but the truth is that Steve probably knows Eddie better than anyone on earth. If Eddie's going to take advice from one person in the world, it's gonna be Steve. Still though, where does Steve get off telling him what to do.

"Gee, thanks Mr. Know-it-all. I'll be sure to run all my very private personal decisions by you from now on."

"Dickhead. Don't be stupid."

"And here I thought you loved me."

"I do. You know I do. Don't be stupid." Steve closes his eyes again, confident he'll get the last word in. "She doesn't care, you know. She clearly has a thing for freaks."

Eddie holds up two emphatic middle fingers to the side of Steve's unseeing head.

X

“You can ask me,” Eddie offers on the drive home. "About them. If you want."

The rest of the afternoon had passed peacefully despite your sunburn and Eddie's dehydration. You had insisted you could walk from Steve's but Eddie wouldn't hear it. A pretty thing like you walking home by herself? No chance. The two of you sit tired and sun-soaked, cooled by the van's AC.

Much to Eddie's chagrin, Steve managed to get through to him earlier. He knows the hangup is inside of him. Really, he thinks you'd say yes if he asked you out. He thinks you'd say yes to most anything he asked. But annoyingly, Eddie is still on the never-ending journey of working on his courage.

“If you’re… If we’re… ” He trails off, his hands tensing and un-tensing on the wheel.

You look over to see him, watching him watch the road. Your eyes drift down to his forearms, following the scar pattern that's starting to become familiar to you.

You take your time answering. 

“I don’t need to know, Eds. I’ve never needed to know.” 

He nods but stays quiet until he pulls into your driveway. He puts the van in park and turns off the ignition. You wait patiently for him to put together what he wants to say.

“I want to tell you.” He turns in his seat to face you. “I want to tell you but it's so much and I wouldn't even know how and—" 

He cuts himself off, getting frustrated. You're patient, giving him all the time he needs to find the right words. When you offer your open palm, he takes it, holding your hand with both of his in his lap.

“You make me feel like I have scurvy."

You pause, not quite understanding. “I make you feel sick?”

“No, not like that, it’s like–” He forces himself to breathe. "It's like I'm falling apart in all the places I used to be open. I used to be…I mean I'm better than I was but it's still hard. And it's not a bad feeling, it's not like it hurts or anything, but when I'm with you I just feel so raw sometimes. Like, after everything, I had to learn how to be a person again. I have most things figured out but with you…I don't know what to do with myself sometimes."

"Am I doing something wrong?" You know he's not blaming you for anything, you just want to know how to help.

Eddie shakes his head.

"No. No, I feel like I'm the one doing it all wrong. I feel like I am wrong."

He doesn't meet your eyes.

"There's not a right way, Eddie. There's just…There's you and there's me and there's what feels good. To both of us. That's kind of it." You speak softly.

"What if I don't know what feels good. What if I don't know."

"Then we try things. I'm not in a rush, Eddie. I'm here for you, not anything else."

You can see him thinking. He looks up with pinched eyebrows and you try to tell him what you said again with your eyes.

"Can I please kiss you?" He barely manages to whisper.

"I would like that."

It takes a second for Eddie to move. He lets go of your hand to hold your face, feather-light. He treats you as if you're the skittish animal, moving tentatively but with purpose. You want him to know you're not scared so you still, letting him take his time in this moment. He tilts your head gently, his nose brushing yours. Both of you breathe shallowly. He finds your mouth with his and presses gently. Something heavy inside you dissolves. He pulls back to take a shaky breath before kissing you again, just as tender as the first time.

Eddie stops at two because it's what feels right, for now. Your eyes are so bright and he knows his are glassy. He tries not to let his mind blind him by spiralling beyond right here. For now there is only you and him and all of his collagen.

☆

[cheesycatz]

Me: (puts the DealMaker on Kris just in case there's a single reference to Spamton in Chapter 3)

The pathetic divorced TV that's still whipped 20+ years later:

So YEAH writing my thoughts on the Spamton and Tenna content we got. Mainly:

Tenna is WAY more obsessed with Spamton than Spamton is obsessed with Tenna

Tenna's fond memories of Spamton have been tainted by his current hatred of Spamton

Tenna blames his problems on Spamton because that's easier than accepting his fate as a darkner of becoming obsolete

Tenna probably believes Spamton is more successful than ever, and would probably sympathize if he knew how poorly Spamton was actually doing

The 10 ft tall TV man is the submissive one?????

wait no delete undo control z delete delete delte dlelatefbbsjabcjowm

(Here's a YouTube video with all the nonsense I'll be referencing if you're normal and don't know what the hell I'm talking about)

It's interesting just how obsessed Tenna is? Despite the fact that Spamton thinks Tenna is the one entirely responsible for his downfall, he only mentions him a few times, and usually so vaguely we didn't even know he was referring to Tenna until chapter 3 came out. Spamton clearly found a new plan to become a big shot (becoming NEO), and while he's still very spiteful, he's somewhat moved on. He doesn't need Tenna anymore, just like he doesn't need Swatch, the addisons, or anyone else that was ever by his side. His plan doesn't involve anyone from his past.

Meanwhile, Tenna brings Spamton up repeatedly, entirely unprompted. Constantly mentioning emails, talking about how he's better than him, the Z rank room and the S rank room look like they haven't been touched since Spamton last visited, the fact that he's using the pipis Spamton gave him to mass produce TV slop, that giant Spamton head in the Susiezilla mini game—you can tell Tenna is still living in the past, and his Spamton obsession is a part of that.

Tenna also has a hatred for Spamton that seems strange considering how close they must've been. From Tenna's perspective, Spamton promised to help him become a “big shot” (I assume this is referring to helping Tenna become successful, relevant, and up-to-date with technology rather than Spamton's more metaphorical meaning when he uses the term), then rushed out after receiving a phone call, never to be seen again. This event was presumably Spamton's benefactor deciding they would no longer help him, and the reason he never came back was possibly because the laptop got taken back to the Library, or because he was getting evicted? Regardless, the last Tenna ever sees of Spamton is his face going pale, then literally running out of the room, phone still hanging off the receiver. If that was the last you saw of your business partner and friend (or lover wink wink), wouldn't you be concerned?

…And his first thought was that Spamton had purposefully scammed and ditched him? I think, given how “bright” Tenna and Spamton's smiles were in that Z rank room poster, Tenna's perspective of this event must've shifted. After all, Tenna is retelling this story 20-ish years later when he's been abandoned by the lightners for years. Aside from the Knight, Spamton is literally the only hope Tenna ever had. And, considering how Tenna's employees talk about him and his contracts in Chapter 3 (Lanino and Elnina, his 2nd in command, ditch him like five minutes after his crash out they ain't loyal 😭😭😭), he's probably been extremely isolated since Spamton (and Mike) left. He pretends that the random guys pretending to be Mike are actually Mike, because that's easier to accept than coming to terms with the fact that the real Mike is long gone.

I think, in the same way Spamton blames his problems on everyone else, Tenna blames all his problems on Spamton. He probably believes that Spamton is still the richest salesman in Cyber City, that he's more successful than ever while Tenna rots in a broken home. He doesn't know that Spamton's been puppetified (either horrifically transformed or agonizingly burned alive in acid depending on what theory you like more), evicted from his home, and has been living on the streets for literal decades. Not to mention Spamton's verbal and visual glitches, which very well could hurt given how much he mentions being in pain in his dialogue.

Chapter 3 definitely showed that Tenna is an antagonist, not a villain, unlike what Spamton would have you believe. The only reason he fights is because he's desperate for attention, and also because of the Knight's instructions (which he also only followed because he's desperate for attention). I don't think he would hate Spamton if he knew what Spamton went through, which made that shitpost scene of him getting blasted with foam that much more heartbreaking. Spamton has been through so damn much that his voice and appearance is entirely unrecognizable from the man he once was. I know it was a joke, but Tenna literally assumed he was some weird, feral animal. Spamton could pull out his birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, social security number, whatever, and Tenna probably still wouldn't believe him, because his image of Spamton is completely different from the real man.

From Spamton's perspective, it's interesting how quick his tune changed when he saw that Tenna kept the pipis. It makes me wonder if he really does believe Tenna was responsible for his downfall, or if he tries to trick himself into believing it because it's easier than accepting his fate. Otherwise, like Tenna, I wouldn't be surprised if Spamton grew to resent Tenna the longer he went without seeing him. Even if Tenna was already losing popularity by the time Spamton left, he still had so much more than Spamton had. Spamton started from the bottom, but Tenna always had his giant TV studio, always had employees, never had to worry about when his next paycheck was. Spamton was born to fail. Tenna was born at the height of his own popularity. It's not surprising that Spamton would envy Tenna, and it's not surprising that he wishes their roles were reversed. Though, perhaps seeing Tenna all these years later, desperate, pathetically lonely, still obsessed with Spamton, and begging for freedom made Spamton a little sympathetic.

Overall, the similarities between Spamton and Tenna makes their dynamic very enjoyable to me. Both have been abandoned, and still perceive and hate the other as the other's old successful self. Their similarities also make their differences more fascinating. Part of why I like Spamton is his perseverance. His situation is easily 100 times worse than Tenna's (literal homeless man that's been horribly disfigured vs. millionaire irrelevant tv host smh), yet Spamton's the one that wakes up and still works his ass off trying to reach his goals, while Tenna desperately clings to his dying dark world, bitterly living in the past rather than trying to do anything to help his situation.

I don't care if he's a murderous criminal, Spamton's a fucking inspiration. No matter how much everyone hates Spamton, no matter how much they try to erase his image, they still constantly replicate what he had. The Color Café sells his bowties, the Chapter 4 addisons try to mimic him the second they don't have jobs, and, of course, Tenna loathing yet revering him. None of these people know if Spamton's even still alive—yet the mere idea of him has influence everywhere. No matter how hard they try to scrub him from existence, they can't escape it. I like Tenna as a character, but he will never compare to Spamton's sheer influence.

Also sorry Tenna but I think you deserved getting kinkshamed by an entire audience for keeping your ex's freak ass unfertilized puppet eggs and nonconsensually feeding them to your employees

Conclusion: uuuuuh can I have a 200k words slow burn fic about these two reuniting in Castle Town with a side of overcoming their hatred and realizing how similar they are? And a drink of hijinks with Tenna refusing to recognize Spamton at first? oh yeah can I also get a Spamton NEO? Your NEO cream machine is broken? Okay……..

[silens-oro]

You Know Where You Are: Part II

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part I | Part III

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: Dr. Robby's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning bleeds into an Even Worse Afternoon. Word Count: 3,579 Content Warning: Reader is in her 30's; mass shooting; death; blood; gunshot injuries; angst - if I've missed any, please let me know. A/N: Just know my rubbing my lil fly hands together nefariously. Thank you for all of the love on the first part!

Robby was relatively good at schooling his emotions at work, locking them away so as to not let them cloud his judgement when dealing with patients. They deserved his full attention, no matter who they were. The med students and residents deserved to learn from him in an appropriate setting. That’s not to say that Dana didn’t clock the black cloud that clung to him the second he walked into the ED, because that’s exactly what she did. That and she knew Robby like the back of her hand.

“Good morning. Surprised to see you today,” Dana greeted, a knowing smile gracing her features. Robby just grunted his greeting, confirming her suspicions. “Hate to make your questionable morning worse, but Gloria is looking for you.” 

He couldn’t wait for this day to end.

The cold water from the bathroom sink hit Robby’s face with a jolt. He brought another handful up to follow the first for good measure. This day just kept derailing in one way or another -more than an ED usually derails in a day. He dried his face and pulled his phone out.

He sent you a text just after Jake came to pick up the backstage passes from him and sighed when he saw the ‘Read 11:26 AM’ under his message, then looked at the clock -12:51 PM. You were busy, he told himself. He was lying to himself, but with the day that he already had, it was the only thing allowing him to tread water.  

Between the fight with you, the anniversary of losing Adamson, the patients lost, and the hysterical families he’s dealt with today -add on the possibility of a future school shooter on the loose, Robby was heavily regretting his stupid decision to ask for this shift. 

And it was only one in the afternoon. 

This was his punishment from the universe. 

“You good?” Dana had asked as Robby stopped across from her at the nurses station and set down a tablet. He had pushed his glasses up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the migraine that was edging at the corners of his eyes. Robby let out the deepest sigh before letting his glasses fall back down. 

“Define good.” His face was still pinched as he looked down to Dana.

“That bad?”

“You don’t know half of it.” Dana walked around the station and gently grabbed Robby’s arm to lead him to the breakroom. 

“Perlah, can you handle this for a few? I’ll be right back.” Perlah nodded as Princess tried not to obviously crane her neck behind Perlah to listen in as well.

“I don’t know what he did, but I’m on her side.” Princess said to Perlah in Tagalong, referring to you. Perlah nodded with an “mhm” before going back to her computer. 

“This have anything to do with why you’re here and not at PittFest?” Dana asked with an eyebrow raised as they got to the breakroom. She closed the door as Robby leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and guarded. Dana came to stand next to him, busying herself with making two cups of coffee to give him room. He’d open up if she did this right, otherwise she’d be adding to the natural disaster of a cloud that followed him during their shift and that’s the opposite of what she wanted to do. They still had four hours of their left before they could call it quits and he needed to let some of that steam out before whatever was inside boiled over.  

The last time you spoke to Dana over coffee, you told her how excited you were to get Mike out of the house -out of the hospital. She couldn’t agree with you more that the man needed a break. Robby needed to experience things that weren’t the ED and anything within a five block radius of the hospital. Sure you got him out of the house on the occasion that he was up for going somewhere further, but he needed joy, and hanging with you and Jake outside in the sun, fresh air, music and food would do just that. That was the plan, anyway. Dana just needed to piece together where the plan that was set in stone went sideways.

Robby pins Dana with a look and she knows she’s at least hit that nail on the head.

“What happened?” She asked softly, leaving the question open so Robby could respond in a way that didn’t corner him. Placing the cup of coffee she made for him on the counter, she held hers nestled between both of her hands. 

“I happened.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I didn’t tell her I wasn’t going until this morning.”

“Robby!” Dana whispered the exclamation, eyes wide. He held up a hand.

“I know, believe me, I know. It was stupid.”  

“Stupid is an understatement, doc. Listen, I know why you did it. I get it. Today is heavy -emotionally and mentally. You need to stay busy and any downtime leaves room for too much thinking. Working does that for you.”

“Yeah.” Robby sighed, tapping his fingers on the counter. At least his arms had left their defensive position crossed over his chest. That was a win in Dana’s book. 

“But that doesn't mean it’s right. You can’t hide yourself away here when you’re going through something, Robby, not when you have someone who is willing to shoulder that burden with you.” Dana corrected him gently, placing her hand over his bicep. The worst part about this conversation was that Robby knew Dana was right. He knew he went about this the wrong way entirely, but he can’t seem to get out of his own goddamn way sometimes. You would’ve understood, even encouraged him to do what he needed to- “Communication is important, you know this. It’s nothing I haven’t said to you before.” Dana finished softly. Goddamn communication. If only it was that easy, that simple. 

“God, you’d think I’d understand that by now.” He chuckled sardonically. 

“There’s always time to learn.” She encouraged Robby. “She loves you -I know that for a fact. Reach out, leave the ball in her court. Let her know you understand.” He was already ahead of her on that suggestion, and it felt like he was stranded at sea with a single life preserver and no rescue ship in sight. 

“No luck?” Dana asked when she saw Robby looking down at his cell in the few spare minutes he had just after a particularly unruly patient in South 15. He shook his head and pocketed it, departing to meet Langdon so Dana couldn’t dig further. She meant well, but it was starting to grate on his nerves and the last thing he wanted to do was snap at Dana. Because that would be the last thing he ever did once she got through with him. 

Robby had been off and everyone who worked with him on the daily took notice -outside of Dana who clocked him the second he came through the doors. The glances from the residents and nurses said as much. The new interns and residents didn’t know anything was off until Whitaker overheard Langdon talking to Mohan about it. Gossip spread like the wildfire in the ED. The second it was out, there was no reeling it back in. 

Robby knew he was cutting it close, that your band’s set was scheduled for a 5 PM start, but he texts you again around 4 PM to ask you to please call him when you had a few minutes -that he loved you and just needed to talk. You replied with a simple ‘busy’ and that was somehow worse than no response at all. Robby knew he was in the doghouse when they both got home -if you even decided to come back to his place that night. “You know what, Mike…probably not” Robby winced at the memory and carried on with his neverending shift. 

The exasperation that laced your voice and the frustration that shined in your eyes this morning made Robby bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself present. He would apologize, genuinely -profusely-, when you decided to speak to him again. He would listen. He would communicate. He couldn’t risk this driving a wedge between you like it had in his past relationships. He’d fix this. This was fixable, he told himself. He didn’t want to think of the alternative. That was the last thing he needed after the day he had, but he knew he was an asshole and you were generally too understanding of him and his quirks -today notwithstanding. 

At the 5:15 PM mark, he got a facetime call from Jake. Excusing himself from South 10, leaving the patient in Mohan’s hands, he quickly stepped into a more quiet hallway to answer. A smile lifted his lips for the first time all day when Jake’s beaming face came onto the screen.

“Robby!” Jake shouted over the festival noise.

“Hey, bud!” All of Robby’s emotions nearly broke through the dam he crafted at the beginning of the shift.

“Me and Leah just wanted to say thank you for the passes!” The phone panned down to a young blonde next to Jake. She beamed up at him, then down to the phone. 

“Thank you so much, Robby! This is incredible!” The phone twisted back up to Jake’s face. 

“You’re coming with us next time, Robby! This is insane! Look at this view,” Jake flipped the camera to capture what he saw from the back lens. Jake was backstage facing the crowd. You were the first thing Robby saw. He recognized the song and could hear the crowd singing along to it as you moved across the stage. 

Robby’s heart clenched. Seeing you in your element was mesmerizing no matter how many times he had seen it before. He met you well after your career was established, but he still felt pride nonetheless. You were successful, humble, and grateful above all else to do what you loved -and to make a generous living on top of it. 

You toured the world, saw everything there was to see, and sometimes Robby felt like an anchor in the worst way. It felt almost like an insecurity that he wouldn’t be the person to experience those things with you, but he had been warned before you both decided to try your unorthodox relationship out -just as you had been warned about his profession and what that entailed.

This was the first time in Robby’s life that he had ever been in a relationship with someone who had an equally, if not more demanding job when it came to sacrificing time at home. It worked for you both so far, to the surprise of everyone. 

Your band had taken this year off from touring to write and record a new album, and you had a tour across North America scheduled for the following spring once the album was released in February of next year. The thought of not seeing you for months at a time was anxiety inducing, he would admit. The last time you left was on a 3 month tour through Europe and Asia, and Robby didn’t realize he could miss someone as much as he missed you. 

On the flipside, you hadn’t ever had a partner who wasn’t in the industry, so leaving him behind was brutal in its own way knowing he couldn’t just hop on a plane to meet you for a few stops. You got homesick when you never got homesick before meeting Robby. He had become your home in the last three years and it was a welcomed adjustment. 

This year was a nice cushion of time to relax and play solitary shows at local festivals or secret shows in smaller venues around Pittsburgh and occasionally Philly. Sometimes Robby made it to them, sometimes he didn’t. Some of Robby’s coworkers that you had met would show after you’d extended an invitation to any of your home shows. Dana and her husband, surprisingly, were the first to take up the offer. No one in the ED would believe you when you said she was wild on a night out, her husband encouraging her to let loose. After that, you and Dana had been two peas in a pod. Langdon still could not believe that Robby was dating an actual rockstar and was a little starstruck every time you showed up. 

That being said, you had been home more often than Robby was as of recent (whether you both landed at your place or his) and you never complained about anything really. You were just happy with the time you got with Robby and you spent every second you were afforded with him together. You rolled with whatever each day brought you and it was a breath of fresh air for Robby. He didn’t have to walk on eggshells when things didn’t go as planned and maybe he had gotten too comfortable with that. 

Robby was going to be sick -physically, viscerally, all-consumingly ill. There’s an active shooter at PittFest -Robby could have collapsed in that ambulance bay the second those words left Dana’s mouth as his work phone beeped in unison with hers. He wasn’t afforded even a second to panic before he had to shift to Dr. Robby and get all hands on deck to prep the ED for what was sure to be a mass casualty event. 

Robby called Jake, then texted Jake, then called him again, then moved on to calling and texting you, begging both of you to contact him in any way you could to make sure you Jake was okay -that you were okay.

5:46 PM, you were supposed to be on stage until 6 -Robby made a mental note. He prayed to whoever was listening -if anyone was listening- that the three of you got to safety. He nearly loses it when he sees Jack walk through the doors with his backpack in tow, ready to take on whatever this event brought through their doors. 

Dana was on a rotating call between your phone and Jake’s to try to get through to either of you as she prepped the nurses, and every time Robby asked her if she had gotten through, it broke a piece of her soul when she had to shake her head. 

You were fine. Jake was fine. Those were the words repeating in his brain over and over as triaged patients started to flood the ED. These people needed him and they needed him present, so he shut himself down emotionally and did what he knew how to do -he gave the best possible care under the current circumstances.

It was a lull in between songs while you were talking to the crowd when you saw an unusual scatter of patrons in the back cluster of people on the east side of the festival. You pulled out your ear monitors and heard screaming -blood curdling screaming, not the type of screaming from a normal crowd. In a split second, Nick -your guitarist and lifelong friend- collapsed to the floor of the stage, the guitar emitting a horrific feedback over the amps. Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd and mass panic set in. People started trampling each other as shots started ringing out. 

Your first instinct was to drop the mic and run over to Nick and that’s exactly what you did. The people stuck at the barricade were horrified and scared beyond belief because they were pinned in the crowd with nowhere to go as people dropped like flies. Blood pooled around Nick where he lay crumpled when you reached him.

Then you felt it. The sheer power was enough to knock you off your feet and you heard your name as you tried to crawl to safety. Fire radiated through your torso as you tried to lift yourself enough to move, but when you tried to pull yourself forward, your hand slipped in the blood on the stage that was leaking from somewhere on your body. Every instinct in your brain shut off with the exception of fleeing. Your brain screamed at you, begged you to go, go, go somewhere, anywhere, but your brain and your body could not connect so you simply lay there on your stomach, your eyes catching the crowd dispersing in mass pandemonium, blood pooling around you just as it had with Nick with your last coherent thought being that of Jake. Was he safe? Losing Jake would kill Robby and you couldn’t protect him. 

Your hands were noticeably cold, your body shivering regardless of the end of summer heat. The warmth of your blood pooled against the side of your face that was resting against the stage felt warm, warmer than you did and it was oddly comforting. Buzzing from your back pocket kept you present, awake, and aware, but you couldn’t move -you could barely breathe. 

“Leah, stay!” Jake’s panicked voice cracked as he flipped you onto your back and grabbed one of your feet to try to pull you to the side of the stage. 

“I have her other leg, just pull-” Another shot and you heard someone drop. 

“Leah!” Matt, your bassist, and a couple of the roadies put themselves in danger to help Jake drag you and Leah off the stage while Casey, your drummer, pulled Nick off to the side.

“Pressure! Put pressure on them!” You screamed incoherently when someone pushed something onto your stomach -at least you thought it was your stomach- and pain radiated through every limb and up your neck shooting blinding white light through your brain. It was enough to leave you breathless, wheezing, and falling in and out of consciousness. 

“Help pick her up on my three -one, two, three,” Someone lifted you into their arms and you were moving. You didn’t recognize them, possibly one of the roadies who didn’t work with your band or possibly just a good samaritan, but his face blurred every time you tried to look at him. “Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes.” He said as he kept looking down between you and where he was going. “We’re getting you out of here, alright? Stay with me.” He tried to coax you, shaking you in his arms to keep you awake. You didn’t even realize your eyes had closed. Your head tilted back, resting against his arm as he ran with you.

The sky was clear, you noticed, clearer than it had been in the past couple of weeks. The periwinkles of dusk were settling into the violets of night and you were getting colder by the minute. 

“Jake,” You wheezed out, the teen coming to the forefront of your mind. You tried to move in the man’s arms, but he held tight. “Leah,” Your voice slurred.

“The kid is alright.” He reassured you, only half answering -not that you were coherent enough to notice. “Just hold on, alright?” The next thing you knew, you were pulled into the bed of a pickup truck. “We’re gonna sit you up, alright?” You grunted as your back hit the cab of the truck. “We need you up so you can keep track of Jake, right Jake? He needs you to talk to him, alright? Talk to him about anything, you hear me? Don’t stop talking. Keep pressure here,” Not questioning him, you nodded and held someone’s balled up shirt to your torso with the stranger’s help. You grasped his bloody hands with one of yours to stop him before he could take off.

“Thank…you.” He looked at you, an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint flooded into his eyes, and he nodded as he squeezed your hand. 

“Mac, ma’am. Wished we met under better circumstances.” You chuckled groggily. You gave him your name. “You got ‘em?” Mac asked Jake. Jake nodded and Mac smacked the side of the truck to let the driver know to get the hell out of there and to the nearest hospital. 

Once the truck got moving, things got incredibly fuzzy while it tore out of the lot of the backstage area. Jake called your name and your eyes refocused on him and Leah. He was covered in blood and holding another shirt over the wound on her chest. 

“I’m fine, Jake,” You wheezed out. “Focus on Leah. Is she talking? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s talking,” His eyes danced between you and Leah. “I’m fine.” 

“Good,” You nodded sloppily, “Good. Focus on her. I’m alright,” You tried to reassure the kid, but you could see that he did not believe you. You blinked and felt someone hitting your foot.

“Keep your eyes open,” Jake demanded. Your eyes felt like they were filled with sand, weights pulling each one down further and further. Your skin was losing its color, the tone turning gray as each minute ticked by.  

“Just blinking, kid.” Your eyes were closed much longer than a blink and Leah’s speech was starting to slur as she looked up at him. He finally let his tears fall, his lips quivering in pure helplessness as it engulfed him when your head started to nod to the left. Jake’s voice sounded like it was under a tidal wave when he said your name again before you were out.

Please reblog, like, and/or leave comments :)

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I know you don't always like to do smut (I'm a writer too, I get having to be in the right mood), so don't feel pressured to add smut to this one!

I was thinking that Eddie would be sitting at the table with the hellfire guys and reader teases him walks up behind him to whisper something sexy in his ear (maybe like plans for later, something she bought, etc). Anyway, he let's out some kinda noise, and the guys just will not drop it. They pick on him throughout the day for it

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Bully friends

Eddie laughed along with the boys as they focused on their breakfast. He picked at his bag of pretzels when he felt two hands on his shoulders. The hands moved down to his chest, rubbing him softly. He shifted in his seat, turning his head to the side to see his girlfriend standing behind him.

"What's up, babe?" He asked, smiling at up her. She smiled and leaned down, her lips perfectly fitting against his. He happily kissed her back, loving the way her hands kept rubbing his chest.

She took notice that the boys were looking at them when they pulled away. And also noticed Eddie's jacket covering her hands.

She leaned down to his ear, keeping her hands on his chest. She pressed a teasing kiss to his earlobe, making him shiver. She loved how easy it was to get him turned on.

"Remember that fantasy you wanted to try?" she whispered. Eddie felt his mouth go dry, chanting yes in his head. "I finished the outfit, and picked up the toys yesterday." Her fingers moved to his nipple, giving it a small tug.

"Hng" Eddie whimpered, his eyes huge as he released it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N smiled and enjoyed his reaction. Already knowing tonight would be a very enjoyable night.

The boys waited for her to walk away before they all erupted in laughs.

"Someone heard something good," Gareth teased, nudging Eddie.

"Shut up," Eddie groaned, a tad embarrassed his friends heard the noise he let slip out.

"Why do you say that?" Dustin asked, not understanding the situation.

Eddie felt his face burn

"Means he's getting laid!" Mike said, holding up his hand to give Eddie a high-five. But Eddie sent him a glare, and Mike slowly dropped his hand.

~

Eddie thought the boys would drop it, but he was wrong. The first period started and Gareth sat next to him with that stupid look on his face.

"So, tell me what is happening tonight that made you "hng"" Gareth said, mimicking the sound Eddie made in a high-pitched voice.

Eddie groaned and shoved his arm.

~

By the time lunch came, Eddie was not excited to listen to his friends. Gareth would not get off his back about it, constantly teasing him.

Eddie sat down and it didn't take long for the boys to start.

They all mimicked Eddie's whimper, calling the attention of people around them.

"Will you quit it!" Eddie hissed, nervously looking around. He felt like he was holding his breath when Y/N arrived and sat next to him.

The boys went silent, but all stared at her. She looked around the table, "yes?"

"They won't leave me alone for what happened earlier! Make them stop," Eddie demanded, crossing his arms as he looked to his girlfriend for help.

"What happened?" she asked, a smirk forming on her face, "you mean when you whimpered like a needy boy?"

Eddie looked at her in shock as his cheeks burned bright red. "Y/N!"

The boys laughed, loving that she seemed to be on their side.

"Damn, Munson. I didn't think you'd be the bottom." Lucas snickered. High-fiving the table as they laughed.

"I am not a bottom!" Eddie growled, standing up from his chair.

"Oh right, because big dominant men say hng and whimper," Mike said as he rolled his eyes.

Eddie's eyes went dark as he looked at the table.

"You know what, watch your backs. I'm going to make you regret mocking me," he growled. The heat in his eyes was scary enough to make the table fall silent.

"And for you," he said, turning his attention to his girlfriend. She silently gulped. A big smirk on his face that made her clench her thighs. He walked behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "I'm going to fuck your big mouth until you can't speak."

The boys watched with curiosity as Y/N's eyes went wide and she slightly coughed on her spit.

Eddie had a huge victory smile on his face as he walked away.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[gayofthefae]

"I should have explained myself because maybe then Eleven would have taken me with her, but - I don't know. I didn't know what to say."

That isn't what he said the first time.

"I should have said something. And maybe if I had said that thing, Eleven would want me there with her."

The sentiment of him being with her and knowing/ensuring she's safe is consistent. But he isn't actually repeating himself. There's no need for him to as a person and as a screenwriter, repetition should DEFINITELY be cut.

He's changing. He's brainstorming. He's starting to consider other angles of the "could have"s. The "what if"s.

He starts with "what if I'd just forced an 'I love you'". But I think he likely settles on what we can logically deduce for ourselves in that situation - "I made the right choice prioritizing with what I knew of the consequences at the time".So he changes. He changes.

He changes to "I should have explained myself".

"Explained myself" is NOT the same as "said that thing" and that is VITAL.

I should have just sucked it up and told her I loved her if it meant keeping her safe.

No, I did the best I could with the information I had

I should have told her the truth. Maybe she would have taken it better if I had just told her that I don't love her but it's my fault, not hers. Now she thinks it's hers and that I'm hiding it.

And, perfect timing, Will comes in with (in Mike's pov) "It makes sense why you didn't, though, don't beat yourself up. She was gonna get hurt either way and everything would have been a risk as to how much."

And Mike nods. And the next time we see him, he's saying

"Will she still even want me in her life if I can't give her the love she wants? All I can do now is to make sure she knows it isn't her fault, that's the selfless act I can do for her, but if I confess I don't love her, what other use am I to her? Will doing what's best for her by telling her it's not her fault, it's mine, instead of continuing to lie make me lose her?"

He says "explain". He starts with "maybe I should have changed the 'what'". Then he shifts to "maybe I should changed what she thought of the 'why'". Ironically, his question in the van once he's come to that conclusion is "how?".

The first pitch he makes is "maybe I should have told her I loved her" and Will says "don't worry, you'll have another chance", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

aversion.

But then he says "maybe I should have just explained the real reason behind my actions instead of denying them all together" and Will says "that's a scary thing to do. It's a hard decision. You're doing your best", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

understanding.

Honestly, being understood. And sometimes that's what you need to find understanding. He's been confused this whole time, that's been his whole thing, but he looks like he's starting to piece something together now - finally. Will put his own feelings into words for him to hear out loud so could finally get them and get them in a validated way.

Instinctively, he knew the first one was easier but wrong. He didn't want to lie to her. Both times Will said "if that's what you want to do, I believe in you", but only once did he agree. He knew it felt like the wrong choice the first time and you can see it. The second time was a new choice he was considering.

And you know what? While we're here. Telling her he loves her: aversion. Telling her the truth: understanding and drive. What happens next?

He expresses "what if when I tell her the truth, as I've decided is the right choice, she appreciates it but doesn't need me for anything else beyond that?" And Will says "she'll stay. You got this.", and he reacts with

Comfort.

He didn't know what to do. Then he did, but he was scared to do it. Then he wasn't so scared anymore.

He's thrilled to see her and forgets for a second but - much like El with Will on roller rink day - is reminded by seeing Will that now that she's actually here, it's real. He's committed to his actions and they're impending.

But he's not so scared anymore. Bravery, though, doesn't mean no nerves. He's hesitant and not happy looking when he talks to her about it first. He tries to lighten the mood - "the whole world went to shit and everything" - and he's watching her reactions like a hawk. It feels like less of a risk now enough that he can do it, but not so little that he isn't scared. Either way though, it's worth the risk for her to know the problem isn't her.

He didn't know what to do. Now he does. He was scared, but he's not as much anymore. Not too much to do it. They're interrupted. Okay, oh well, he'll find another time.

And now to break your heart:

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, but Mike met that with aversion.

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, Mike met that with understanding and agreement.

Mike was scared, Will said he had no reason to be, Mike met that with comfort.

(I'm sorry) Mike was scared for El - unrelated - and looked to Will for comfort - as he had every other time - when he tapped him on the shoulder, Will said he should tell her he loves her, and he reacts with

anguish.

This was not Mike's plan.

This was not their plan, so he thought.

Mike's reaction tells us everything about what he knew and what he meant for what's to come. This was not what he meant. That was not what he was going to say. This was not his plan.

And there's that part of you too that always wishes to go back to semi-ignorant bliss. Even if just panicked confusion. Because wasn't it nice: when telling her you loved her evoked this

And not this

Wasn't it nice when you knew...just a little less?

Wasn't it nice, in a way, when you couldn't see the happy ending so clearly?

Don't you sort of miss - when you couldn't taste it?

also fuck it for just for that list bit and the bridge of this song here's my illicit affairs edit linked because "you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

[xstarsdiary]

guys I haven’t even watched the fnaf movie yet cause I’ve been so busy but I’m already so obsessed with Josh Hutcherson as Mike Schmidt 😫 I also have the worst case of baby fever so I knew that I had to write this straight away.

not avatar related but i seriously just needed to get this out my system.

Imagine Mike having a pregnant s/o who is in the second trimester of pregnancy as is just so needy for him all the time..

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : pregnancy sex, pregnant reader, teasing, pet names, unprotected p in v, slight fingering, barely any foreplay, masturbation, breeding kink, light spanking, creampie, aftercare, kisses & cuddles at the end ☺️

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 : mike schmidt x pregnant reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : bit rushed at the end, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+

You feel so deprived. Deprived of your husbands touch. Deprived of his praising words in your ear. It’s torture. Months and months without any release has left you stressed and touch starved, the need to be filled up and stuffed with cock worsens everyday.

For the first few months of your pregnancy you felt nothing but sickness and exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep all day. Now that you’re in your fifth month of pregnancy and your morning sickness has stopped you’ve been a lot more productive, cleaning more, cooking more, you’ve even started to make your husband meals for when he has his night shifts.

The only downside now is you’re so fucking needy. All you need is to be filled, pumped full with your husbands seed all over again but you’ve just been to shy to ask, too shy to make any moves.

That was until tonight. Your husband had the night off work and so he had taken the opportunity to go late night grocery shopping. He made sure that you gave him a list so that he doesn’t forget anything, remembering the last time he had gone shopping for you and forgot to get three avocados instead of two. That day was an absolute shit show.

You had been pumping your fingers in and out of yourself, tears flowing down your cheeks and your body hurting as you struggled to even reach over your growing bump. You’re now desperately chasing your climax, your fingers not long enough to reach that spongey spot inside of you nor thick enough to pleasure you.

You huff as you change positions, now kneeling on the soft mattress with messed up blankets and pillows surrounding you as you mindlessly grind against your fingers, letting out a lewd moan and sigh of relief as you begin to feel that familiar knot tighten.

With tears building up in your eyes all over again and small whimpers leaving your lips, you hastily chase your sweet release. You feel so so close, inches away from pure ecstasy before-

“Fuck!” Your loud cry can be heard from the other side of the house as you hear the front door slam shut. You quickly get up from the bed, holding back sobs as you cry over your failed orgasm. You were so fucking close, so close to snapping before you heard your husband come home, ripping your orgasm away from you.

Footsteps get louder as your husband nears your shared bedroom, calling out your name with worry laced in his tone. He heard your shout.

Your still a crying mess, stood in nothing but a thin, loose blue tank top as you watch the door burst open, your husbands eyes widening with worry at the scene in front of him.

His eyes trail your body, taking in your naked bottom half as he sighs, noticing the shiny slick practically dripping down your plump thighs. He silently walks towards you, taking you into his arms as you let yourself cry.

“What is it? What do you need, pretty girl? Hm?” He knew exactly what you needed. You needed to be pumped so full of his seed until you become pregnant all over again.

Your a blabbering, hiccuping mess as you try to speak. “I need- huap! I need you s..so bad!” Your cries almost break his heart as he rubs small circles into the small of your back, pretending not to notice the wet patch on his clothed leg which in situated right in between your thighs.

Mike lets out a small “tsk”, gently tugging the hairs on the nape or your neck as he pulls your head away from his chest. Your face is a flushed red and all glossy with tears and for some reason the sight of you like this creates a funny feeling in his stomach as he feels himself begin to harden.

“Please Mike, please..” You plead, pulling at the hem of his shirt with one hand and feeling up his chest with the other. You’re no longer shy anymore. You just need his dick now. That’s all you can think about.

Mike makes no other movements, continuing to play with the hairs on the nape of your neck and gently rubbing circles on your bare hip with his thumb. “How long have you been like this?”

You let out a whine as you become impatient, tears still flowing out of your eyes and fogging up your vision. “Too long! Just please. I really need you!”

As soon as you say those words Mike decides that you’ve both waited long enough, practically ripping off his shirt as your dainty fingers unbutton his jeans. One of his hands move to wrap around you, supporting your weight as the other rests on your bump, slowly lowering you down and onto the bed.

Your light moan gets stuck in your throat when he moves back up to pull down his boxers, his hard cock springing out and slapping his lower stomach. A bead of pre-cum leaks out of his tip and drips down his length causing you to gulp and nearly drool at the sight.

Mikes hands move to your thighs, spreading your legs agonisingly slowly as you stare into each others eyes. The second his fingers touch your neglected, dripping cunt you let out a breathy moan, flinching at the contact as he rubs his index finger between your glossy folds. His touch feels like heaven. It feel so ethereal, like you’ve truly been blessed.

“So fuckin’ wet..” He’s now spreading your lower lips with his fingers, groaning at your pretty pussy on display all for him. He prods his middle finger at your hole as you mewl, slightly dipping the tip of his finger in before pulling it back out, a trail of your slick stringing in between you and his finger as he moves to rub small, gentle circles onto your clit.

“Ngh- fuck!..” your hips instinctively buck against his hand, relishing in the feeling of him finally pleasuring you after so long. He uses his free hand to push down your hips, making sure not to use to much force but also making sure you stay still.

His middle and ring fingers slide into your drenched cunt easily with a loud squelch, the sound of your own pussy driving you crazy. “Oh, Mike..” His fingers feel so fucking good, better than yours ever could as he scissors you open.

You know that you don’t need the foreplay, you’re already wet enough. Yet you let him continue for just a bit longer, letting out soft moans as you feel yourself getting even more aroused, your slick dripping down his fingers.

“Mike..” Whining, you squirm away from his fingers, tears brimming in your eyes at the empty feeling once he pulls them out. You inhale a deep breath as his raspy voice comes out, his breaths slightly shallow as his dick stands painfully hard against his pelvis.

“What is is, baby?” Fuck his voice is hot. His tone nearly makes you cum on the spot. “I don’t need- just fuck me now, Mike.”

His brows raise in surprise at your demand before a smirk appears on his face. In a heartbeat he has you on your hands and knees, now kneeling behind you on the bed as he rubs his pink tip between your folds, using your slick as lubricant before slowly sliding himself inside of you, making sure you feel every inch of him against your walls.

“Ahh~ fuuuuck..” Your voice quivers at the feeling of being so unbelievable full, getting even more stretched out by the girth of his cock. You can feel him rub and push against your sweet spot, emitting a loud pornographic moan out of you.

One of Mike’s hands rest against your plush hip, the other landing a light smack to your ass, a stinging pain shooting through you as you curse. “Shh.. i got you, i got you.” He assures you, a moan getting caught in his throat as you push yourself further against his pelvis, begging for him to go deeper.

He gently pulls your body up so that your back is against his chest, so that you’re now kneeling on top of him. One of his hands rests on your jaw, slightly tilting your head back as the other stays gripping your hip. Your hand moves behind you to grab a fistful of his hair, your mouth agape and breaths uneven as your other hand rubs small circles onto your bump.

His first few thrust are experimental, testing your reaction, making sure that your comfortable and happy sitting on his cock all pretty like this. This was your first pregnancy and so the pair of you had never had pregnant sex before, Mike made sure to be extra gentle and patient with you as you meet his thrusts, grinding down on him.

“Oh- shitt..” He grunts, his scalp burning as you tug harder on his hair, now bouncing on him to the best of your ability. He can already feel himself getting close, but I mean after months of of not being able to be inside of you he’s sensitive, almost like a virgin and has a big load waiting to be released so who could blame him for not lasting long.

He’s not mad at himself though, no. He can tell your the exact same, so close to already cumming all over his dick, he can tell by the way your walls are clenching around him and your bounces are getting sloppier and uneven.

“Mm.. Mike I- I’m gonna..” your a breathless, moaning mess at this point, the only thing keeping you upright was Mike’s hands holding you up.

“Gonna come?” He whispers, his breath tickling your neck, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. You vigorously nod, gathering up the strength to bounce faster and harder on his twitching cock, “mmmhhfff, ah-nngh” You can’t even form any words properly as you can feel yourself about to snap.

Your orgasm is like a wave at the beach, pulling back and forming before it crashes down, and when it crashes- it fucking crashes.

The second Mike’s fingers rub at your small bundle of nerves you snap. Your vision going white and mind foggy as you convulse around him, legs shaking and back arching against his stomach. “Mike- Mike- Mike- Mike- Mike!” You chant his name over and over again, unable to think of anything or feel anything but your stomach tightening and pussy clenching around him as he continues to drag his cock in and out of you, keeping your orgasm going for as long as possible as you cry out, tears flowing down your cheeks once again.

“Fuck! M-ikee!!” Your words are broken as you blabber, now overstimulated as he continues to rub your clit and pump inside of you, his thighs clapping against the back of yours and your slick making mess everywhere.

He’s so close. You can feel his dick twitching and throbbing inside of you, his load threatening to spill. “Hold on, baby.. you can take it a bit longer yeah princess?”

In all honesty, you don’t think you can. You can already feel another orgasm approaching you, this one bigger than the last. “Fuck! I’m gonna come all inside of you, hm? Fill you up with a whole ‘nother baby.” He manages to grunt out as his thrusts become sloppy and slower.

“Please! Please! Please! Please!!” You cry out once again as your second orgasm washes over you, your eyes foggy and pussy overstimulated.

Mike’s mind goes haywire as you clench around him, clenching so right that it finally tips him over the edge and into his own climax. “Shiiitt, fu-uuck…” You can feel his warm, sticky cum fill you up, your juices now mixed together as he slowly pumps into you a couple more times before gently pulling out, looking down over your shoulder and watching as his seed drips out of your used cunt.

The straps of your loose blue tank top have fallen down, revealing one of your breasts and peaky nipple to him as he gives it a gently squeeze, a sigh leaving your lips.

Mike lifts you to move you onto your back before laying you back down on the bed, crawling on top of you as your lips meet in a passionate kiss. You’re sore and dirty now, both of your liquids all over your cunt and thighs. You let out a soft whimper as Mike moves away from the kiss, silently putting fresh boxers on before walking into the bathroom, shortly coming back with a damp cloth and a new pair of underwear for you.

You smile at the sight, your husband was always so caring and attentive when it came to aftercare, always making sure you were clean and comfortable. You wince as the cloth meets your sensitive heat, Mike whispering soft praises that you can barely catch as he ever so gently cleans you up before sliding your panties onto you.

It wasn’t much longer until the pair of you were cuddled up in bed, wrapped in your warm grey blanket with the nightlight on as a random movie played on the television. You were pressed up against his side, your head resting on his bare chest as your baby bump pressed against his hip.

“I love you so fuckin’ much baby..” were the last words you heard before you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, the warm presence of your husband making you feel safe and secure.

[eternal-sunflowers]

Sunbaked

AO3 | written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event | prompt: sunshine | rating: t | wc: 2.6k | cw: language, minor child abandonment allusions | tags: established relationship, platonic soulmates stobin

“Hey! No running, shitheads. I’m really not in the mood to go to the hospital today.” Steve’s got one hand gripping the door frame, the other on his hip, as he yells at the gaggle of teenagers absolutely ignoring him as they run around his pool. Well, his parents’ pool, but they haven’t been here in, like, 2 or 4 years or whatever, so it’s Steve’s, and they just told him as much on the phone, said a bunch of paperwork would be over in the morning,along with a big injection to his bank account with a promise of steady flow for the foreseeable future.

Turns out, life’s a lot more interesting outside of Hawkins. Who’d have thought? 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, drags a hand down his face before stepping outside, shutting the door behind him. He walks down the patio, over to where a laughing Jonathan is working the grill, chatting away with Argyle, making their lunch. “Hey, man.”

Jonathan smiles up at him, turning from his conversation. “How’s it goin’, dude?”

Steve shrugs. “The usual.”

Jonathan nods, a somehow stoic smile plastered on his face. “Ah, yes, the usual. A very clear way to be goin’.”

“Fuck off, Jon.” Steve chuckles. “You know what I mean. Just, usual bullshit.”

Jonathan squints at him. “Like, usual bullshit as in parental bullshit or usual bullshit as in you’re too deep in your head bullshit?”

Steve ducks his head. “Both, I guess. Mostly the first.”

Jonathan hums, clicks his tongs. 

“‘S no big deal. I just–”

One of the kids screams then, Steve’s head jerking immediately to the sound to see Mike where he’s splayed on the concrete.

“Shit, Mike! Are you okay?”

Mike waves him off as he stands up, brushing his hands down his swim trunks. “I’m fine.” He then takes off running after Lucas, a big smile on his face. 

Steve scrubs his hands down his face and groans. “Jesus christ. These kids are going to put me in an early grave, I swear. Watching them running around the pool makes me want to scream.”

“Those lifeguard instincts kicking in, huh?” Jonathan nudges him.

“Somethin’ like that.” Steve chuckles.

Argyle nods. “I got you, man. Shit’s dangerous.” He turns then, cups his palms around his face, and, before Steve can stop him, raises his voice. “Hey, lil dudes and dudettes! Chill the running out, alright?”

The kids, surprisingly, stop and look at Argyle, sheepish smiles on their faces, call out a variety of sorry, Argyle’s as they shift to a walk. Some of them sit instead, their laughter and conversations picking right back up.

Argyle nods, drops his hands as he turns back to Steve and Jonathan. “There you go, my man.”

Steve’s mouth is slightly agape as he stares back. “Yeah, uh, thanks, Argyle. ‘Preciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Jonathan knocks his shoulder, gestures with his tongs to where Eddie is laid back in a pool lounger, talking animatedly with Robin. “Go relax, man. We’ll smoke you three out after food’s done, alright?”

Steve smiles, pulls Jonathan into a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Jon.” He turns and hugs Argyle. “You too, Argyle.”

“Of course, my dude. We gotta take care of each other.” Argyle nods, pats Steve on the back.

“Yeah, we do.” Steve smiles, pulls back. “Let me know if you need any help with the food.” He’s got one hand shoved in the pocket of his swim trunks, the other gesturing to the house. “Or need anything–”

Jonathan shoves him back slightly, tongs pointed at his face. “I know where everything is, and if I don’t, Robin or Eddie does.” He snaps his tongs. “Go chill.”

Steve laughs, holds his hands up. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

He turns then, walks over to where his boyfriend and his best friend are curled up in their loungers, talking a mile a minute. 

“Hi, sunshine.” Eddie smiles, immediately makes grabby hands at Steve, to which the latter chuckles and acquiesces, sits on the side of Eddie’s lounger, lends back against his propped up knees. 

“Hi, dingus. Took you long enough.” Robin grins at him. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a day.” Steve sighs, offers an apologetic smile.

Robin’s eyes quirk up, a million questions floating through them as she scans Steve’s own expression. She must find what she’s looking for, because her eyes soften. “Your parents called.”

Eddie leans up, whispers out a quiet, “Oh, shit.”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

Eddie snakes his hand to grab Steve’s own. “You sure, sweetheart?”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “Yeah, I just–” He sighs, rakes his free hand through his hair. “I’ve been done with their bullshit for ages, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. Just always throws me a little off when they make their quarterly phone call or whatever.” 

Robin sits up, swings her legs over the side of her own lounger so they’re pressed up against Steve’s. Steve smiles at her, grateful for the contact. It’s grounding, in a way, to be surrounded by the people he loves most, their physical proximity soothing the aching fissures inside of him. “Any…developments?”

“Robbie. I just said–”

“I know, I know. But, like, this isn’t the usual time for their call, and we both know that, so don’t try to even dodge that point.”

Steve grimaces, drops his head, because yeah, she’s right. 

She carries on, seemingly unfazed. “So, that must mean something’s changed, and it’s clearly bothering you. Are they, like, starting a corporate cult? Or moving to Norway?” She snaps her fingers. “OH! Maybe they’re–”

“They’re giving me the house.” Steve sputters out, stares at their knees knocking together. He drops his voice. “They’re…they’re actually done with it.”

Eddie shifts behind him, gently props Steve forward as he swings himself so his legs are curled around Steve’s body, his chest pressed against Steve’s back. Eddie snakes his arms around Steve’s chest and leans forward, cheek pressed to Steve’s shoulder as he presses a soft kiss there and squeezes tight. Steve wraps one of his own arms atop Eddie’s, laces his fingers through one of his boyfriend’s hands. 

“Steve?” Robin reaches out for his free hand, which he easily lets her have. He nods to her, presses his finger once to the back of her hand. 

“Just give me a minute, yeah?” 

She nods back, starts rubbing tiny designs into his palm.

Steve thinks about the phone call with his parents, about everything that is being thrown into his lap now. He’s not really upset about it in the way people would expect him to be. He’s not upset that he’s not going to see his parents anymore, or that they won’t come back to Hawkins. He’s not upset that he’s now going to be a homeowner at the ripe age of 21, and will have to deal with all the management that comes with it – though, at least his parents said they’d be sending a couple lawyers and other officials over, so Steve assumes they’ll just be putting his name on all the contracts for the people who manage everything. 

Steve’s always felt really fucking weird about having people constantly in and out of the house to clean and primp it. He didn’t really see much of a need considering he was the only one who was ever there, and he cleaned after himself well enough.

Like, do they really need someone to cut the lawn twice a week? It doesn’t even grow that much. 

All the workers were always kind to Steve, and for that he’s incredibly grateful. They were some of the only real human interaction he had for years, after all. He decides maybe he doesn’t need to sign all of the worker contracts. He’ll talk to them and give them fucking massive leaving bonuses for dealing with his family’s bullshit for years. He’ll offer up himself as a reference and put in calls to make sure they get other jobs if they need him. As much as he despises it, the Harrington name holds a lot of weight. Might as well use it to help people, unlike his parents.

Steve shakes his head, earning a look from Robin, but he just presses his finger to her hand again, so she keeps her mouth shut for now. He does the same to Eddie, squeezes his hand to let him know everything’s okay. 

Steve’s mostly upset that his parents took this long to do it. That they danced around not coming back here, always talking about business trips and mergers and corporate bullshit. Steve could’ve dealt without the years of aching for his parents to return, the hope always kind of there. The ache settled and dissipated after meeting everyone here, but that last bit of hope only died the second he hung up the phone, like, 20 minutes ago.

But, now Steve owns this place. Or, well, he will tomorrow. He doesn’t have to tiptoe around anymore. He doesn’t have to keep up the god awful decor. His parents made it clear they’d send people to pack up what belongings they wanted, and the rest Steve could do with what he sees fit. God, is he excited to actually make the house feel like a home. To make it feel lived in.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feels some of the last dregs of his parents’ bullshit come flying out with it. 

“I’m fine, really. Just – I actually, like, have this house now. I’ll own it come tomorrow.” Steve lifts his head to look at Robin, her face impassive as she scrutinizes his own. “I’ll have this house and will be able to do whatever the hell I want with it.” He laughs. “Holy shit, we can cover up the wallpaper now. I never have to see that plaid again.”

Steve feels Eddie’s laughter deep in his chest. “Oh, that’s absolutely the first thing we’re doing, Stevie. I’ve been itching to tear it down since I first stepped foot in your room.

“Me too. It’s atrocious.” Robin shudders. She squeezes his hand, offers him a kind smile. “You sure you’re really okay with this, though?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Like, I’m a bit pissed, but mostly relieved? Excited?” He turns to look at the kids who’ve now migrated into the pool, splashing around and laughing. He looks up at Jonathan and Argyle, a laughing Nancy now with them. He smiles as he continues. “It’ll be mine and then I can really make it a space for everyone, you know?” He turns back, squeezes both hands he’s holding, levels Robin with a hopeful look. “I can make this our home.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Steve?”

“I’m being serious, Robin. You’re practically living out of that room anyway. I can actually give it to you now. If you want it, that is.”

“Are you – if I want it? Dingus, I have been dying to move out since the second I graduated from the hellpit of Hawkins High. Of course I’ll move in.” She launches herself forward, arms clumsily wrapped around him and Eddie, the latter of which chuckles again. 

The laughter, and double hugs, and the sun, and the everything around him in that moment fills the pit in his chest that’s now no longer holding on to that tiny sliver of hope that his parents cared enough to come be parents – that pit fills with warmth and love, swirls around and coats every surface it can reach. 

Eddie lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder. “As much as I’m happy for you, Buck, and really, I am – I can’t help but be a bit offended, though not entirely surprised, that my beautiful, amazing, wonderful boyfriend here asked you to officially move in before me.” 

“Oh, screw off, Munson. You live here already.” Robin pulls back, plops down onto her lounger again, knees bracketing Steve’s as she leans forward.

“And so do you! But not officially, since our beautiful Stevie here was trying to be respectful of his shit parents and not cross that bridge yet.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “Sorry, babe, but, you know–” He gestures with his free hand to Robin, then back to him, then back to Robin, back to him.

Eddie chuckles, disentangles himself, moves to sit beside Steve to better access the conversation. He reaches over and grabs the hand Steve is gesturing with, links their fingers together. “I know, I know, platonic soulmates before romantic soulmates.”

Steve blushes, knocks his shoulder against Eddie’s. “Will you officially move in with me, Eddie?”

He’s met with his favorite, blinding grin of Eddie’s. “I thought you’d never ask, sunshine.” Eddie leans in and kisses him, ignores the gagging sound Robin makes in response, before he turns to face her, his grin turning manic. “Now, we have so much to discuss, Buck. First being, what should cover the currently – sorry, sweetheart – atrocious walls of my new shared bedroom?”

Eddie and Robin launch into a conversation as Steve turns, tosses his shirt off to the side, lays back in the lounger to finally relax. Feeling the warmth of the sun seep deep into his bones, blanketing over the lingering coldness left by his parents, filling the marrow with a burning ache that makes Steve sigh in contentment. He’s always favored summer, and now he gets to enjoy it, gets to let it bake into his skin without the biggest stress of his life looming over him. 

Steve vaguely picks up on the conversation beside him, but he’s not particularly up for joining it, and he’s grateful that they understand that – that they’ll let him rest or tune out when he needs it and will pull him in only when it’s necessary, mostly. Eddie shifts sideways a bit, then lays his hand on Steve’s thigh, starts tracing soothing patterns up and down his leg. 

Steve melts into the lounger a bit more, some of the lingering tension leaving his body at the gentle touch. He smiles lazily up at Eddie, watches the expressions crossing his face as he talks to Robin. The words romantic soulmate float back through Steve’s head. He really thinks about it for a second, thinks some sort of panic should come with it, but all he’s met with is a tingling warmth radiating through every nerve ending in his body. His heart thumps a bit faster. 

Eddie turns, smiles at Steve and squeezes his thigh, before turning back to his conversation with Robin. Steve blinks once, twice, as a realization floods his body, hotter than anything the Indiana summer sun can offer. 

He wants to marry Eddie. 

Holy shit.

Or, at least as close as they can get here, which he guesses is really just living together, having that conversation and committing to each other, maybe a small service in front of their family, just as a showing of their love for each other. Maybe they could even exchange rings, or some token to symbolize all of it. Steve swallows hard, feels a bit of anxiety – okay,  a lot of anxiety – bubbling up inside of him, but it feels good? It feels right?

Fuck, he’s going to propose to Eddie. 

The feeling washes over him, exploding beneath his skin, everything turning prickly, vibrating in intensity. The biggest, most bone-deep happiness radiates throughout his body as a massive smile takes over his face.

“You alright, sunshine?” Eddie squints down at him. “You getting too much sun?”

Steve laughs. “It’s been, like, 10 minutes. I need at least another 3 hours before you can ask me that.”

“3 hours?” Eddie shakes his head. “Your ability to bake in this sun is unnatural.”

He grabs Eddie’s hand, runs his fingers over the rings that never leave it. He thinks about what kind of ring he’d buy for Eddie, where Eddie would wear it if he said yes. Would he wear it on his ring finger? Would he switch off his current rings and only leave that one? Would he alternate rings around the one Steve gave?

“Better get used to it, roomie.” Steve smiles, soft and fond. Eddie matches it, a fierce intensity bubbling in the current of his gaze. 

And it’s there, with the summer sun baking down on him, with the laughter of the family he built ringing out, with the smell of grilled meat and veggies carrying on the air, with the touch pressed against him of the two most important people in his life, that Steve knows he’s going to be okay.

That his life can finally move forward.

Tags (open): @sunshine-daydreams0809

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

just let me know if you'd like to be added to my permanent taglist :) thank you for reading <3

[bi-bard]

The Simplest and Most Important Morning - Mike Schmidt Imagine [Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie)]

Title: The Simplest and Most Important Morning

Pairing: Mike Schmidt X Reader

Word Count: 1,219 words

Warning(s): mention of events of the first film (no real details), pure fluff really

Summary: A peak into the lives with Mike, (Y/n), and Abby.

Author's Note: Hello! I am celebrating ten years of writing fanfiction today (April 7th)! I'm hosting a Q&A to celebrate and would love for you to join in by sending a question into my inbox!

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I had grown to love waking up in Mike's place.

Maybe it was just because it was so familiar. There was this knowledge that I was getting up to the same walls, the same bedsheet, the same person. Probably mostly because it was the same person.

I grinned a bit as I saw Mike start waking up.

"Morning," I muttered, running my fingers through his hair.

"Morning," he replied. "Watching me sleep?"

"Not by choice."

Not a lie.

Mike had a habit of almost sleeping on top of me and trapping me next to him.

"Yeah, yeah," he pushed himself up so his face was hovering over mine. "I don't work today."

"Neither do I," I said. "A miracle."

"I was about to say the same thing," he leaned down and kissed me gently. I was just letting myself relax into the moment, when there was suddenly a new voice in the room.

"Ew."

Mike jumped at the sound of his sister's voice in the doorway.

"Are you two getting up soon?"

"Abby!" he groaned. I tried to cover up my laughter by putting my hands over my face.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"That's right, it's Saturday," I shot up as I realized, spooking Mike a bit. "I promised you pancakes!"

Abby nodded.

"We'll be out in a minute, okay? Gotta let Mike wake up a bit."

She closed the door on her way out.

"Pancakes," Mike repeated. "Why would you promise her pancakes?"

"Because she deserves pancakes," I shrugged. "She's been doing well in school and eating a lot better after... everything. I wanna treat her."

He nodded slowly.

I adored Abby. She was kind and creative. Quiet, yes, but truly a glowing example of how people should act. I had become quite protective of her, even before the incident with Mike's last job. The incident that I refused to discuss in great detail most of the time.

I'd like to think that she had grown to like me. The first time that I had been over to meet her, she glared at me from the other side of the table the whole night. I'd say that her waking me up to demand pancakes was better than that.

Mike leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Shouldn't keep her waiting for too long. I don't know if I have everything for pancakes."

"I bought some last night," I waved it off as he got out of bed. "I... I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

He immediately looked worried.

"It's not bad," I explained. "At least, it shouldn't be. Not if this goes to plan."

"Okay..."

"Hear me out," I shifted to sit up a little straighter. "I've spent a lot of time here, right? Even though my place is significantly closer to where I work."

"Right."

"Well, I was very casually looking around the other day and realized that not only is my work closer to my place but so is Abby's school and where you're working right now," I continued.

"Really?"

I nodded. "I also have a bigger bed."

"Holding a grudge because you fell out of mine?"

"Against the mattress, yes," I confirmed. "I have extra room."

"That's your office."

"I have space to move my desk and books and stuff into another room. And taking care of you is more important than having a separate office."

"You don't need to take care of me-"

"Too bad, I want to," I shrugged as I cut him off.

He leaned down so his face was level with mine. "(Y/n), are you asking me to move in with you?"

"You and Abby, yes," I nodded. "It's in great shape and would be really good for us. A fresh start for us, hopefully. You don't have to say yes now or at all, even, but I think we're ready for it."

"I think that's a great idea," he replied. I grinned.

"I was going to ask Abby on her own," I explained. "I don't want to force it on her."

"Good idea."

There were a few moments of silence before I reached out and hugged him quickly, almost pulling him down. He hugged me and chuckled, moving so we were both standing up.

"Okay, we should get out there before Abby barges through the door again."

"Agreed."

Abby was already sitting at the table when we made it to the dining room. I busied myself making pancakes.

It was funny. I had spent so much time thinking about this. Thinking about how to ask and all of the ways that it could've gone wrong. I had planned every moment out perfectly... and now my mind was blank. I had no idea what to say at all.

"Abby," I looked over when Mike spoke up. He sat in the chair next to Abby. I could see his face. "(Y/n) and I have been talking about something, and we want your opinion on it."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when you visited (Y/n)'s a while ago?"

"When (Y/n) babysat me."

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "You liked it there, right?"

"It was nice."

I grinned to myself as I placed a pancake down on the plate.

"Why?"

"Well... how would you feel about living there," he asked. "The two of us with (Y/n)."

There was a long pause. Too long. One that made my heart drop through my stomach and my brain go a little too fast. If she said no, I didn't know what I was going to do. Would I try to get her to trust me? Would I have to hold my hands up and step back? It was awful.

Abby finally spoke up after what felt like forever, "Where would I sleep?"

"Mike, can you come watch these?" I motioned to the pan as I walked over to the table. He nodded. I took his seat. "I have a room for you. You can decorate it however you want. We can paint and put up all your drawings. It'll be completely yours."

There was another pause. "Okay."

"You sure?" I said. "You don't have to say yes."

She nodded. "I'm sure."

I let out a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Good, good."

"Alright, that's enough talk about moving for now," Mike said as he walked over with a stack of pancakes. "It is time for breakfast."

I let out a pretend groan "Fine!"

I pushed myself up and grabbed the toppings that I had picked up at the store... and a few other plates so we didn't have to all eat off the same one. I jumped a bit when Mike was suddenly standing next to me again.

"That went well," he whispered, taking a few things from me.

"I'd like to think so," I agreed. "I'm really looking forward to this."

"Me too," he replied. "I love you."

"Love you too."

As he walked back to the table, I found myself needing to take a moment to collect myself. It felt like in an instant, things were settling down. Dust was settling. There was a clear image of what was going to happen and what I could expect.

It was nice. Peaceful.

And that was what I had wanted for so long.

I could only hope that it wasn't too good to be true.

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Overall - @geeksareunique

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[moonlittenmelodies]

Just Michael

Pairing: Bad era Michael x fem!reader

Synopsis: After the roar of the crowd fades, Michael sheds the spotlight, exhausted, glowing, and searching for the only peace he knows: you. In the quiet of dressing rooms and hotel suites, you reconnect after each performance, reminding him that in a world that always wants more—you’re enough.

Tags: fluff, established relationship, bad era, boyfriend material michael….

Word Count: 776

Author’s notes: I’m active on ao3, but this is my first tumblr post! So hello moonwalkers, ily all. Additionally, the fact reader is a girl is only mentioned once, so gender neutral/male readers are welcome :)

—-

The show’s over. The final note has echoed into silence, swallowed by the vastness of the arena. The lights, once a constellation of movement, have dimmed one by one. The roar of the crowd has faded.

This is always the hardest part. Not the show or the spotlight, but the wait after- the long, quiet space between who he has to be and who he is.

You never wait near the stage. That would draw too much attention. Too many eyes, too many questions. Instead, it’s routine that you slip away early, disappearing into the winding back corridors of the venue, finding his dressing room and settling down. You know the drill. The fans still scream somewhere outside, the crew shuffles around with headsets and clipboards, but here is always where he’ll find you.

He offers quick nods and murmured ‘thank you, thank-you’ s to the backup singers, dancers and crew members that pass him on their way out, a brief smile flickering to acknowledge them. He’d often go to his manager to pick up notes or feedback, (ever the perfectionist!), but tonight he seems set on finding one thing.

Tonight as you wait, you’re curled up on the small couch tucked into the far corner, legs pulled under yourself, wearing his worn red tour jacket. You’ve got a bottle of cold water in your hand, the condensation running slowly down your fingers, waiting for the moment he’ll need it. You absentmindedly play with it in your hand.

The door swings open fast, no knock, and Michael steps inside. He’s glowing, radiating exhaustion, (an endorphin induced one nonetheless), he’s sweating, curls damp and unruly, his chest still rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The lights backstage have tinted his skin like a painting still wet with movement.

The second his eyes land on you, something in him melts. The stage presence fades piece by piece, a costume he’s finally allowed to shed.

“There’s my girl,” he says, voice low and raspy.

He crosses the room in a few steps, and without a word more, collapses beside you. His body folds into yours, head falling against your shoulder, arms winding instinctively around your waist- he’s warm, and humming from the adrenaline. “They were crazy loud tonight,” he mumbles into your neck. “It’s not real until I see you.”

You smile into his hair, letting it reach your eyes as he pulls back from the embrace. You brush damp curls back from his forehead. “You were amazing, Mike. They went crazy for Smooth Criminal.”

He chuckles, light and rich, then shifts so he can see your face better, his fingers lacing with yours, thumb tracing gentle circles on your palm. “You know what I was thinking about during the last song?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Coming back here. You. Me. No stage. No pressure. Just, yeah… peace.”

Hours pass gently and the dressing room empties, arena goes dark, and the two of you return to the quiet anonymity of the hotel suite. It’s another routine now, familiar but never boring. Room service sits untouched on the silver tray, he barely notices it. He never really eats after a show. He, right now, just want to be near you, press his body against yours and remember that there’s a world outside the spotlight.

In the low golden light of the room, you lie together on the bed, legs tangled, limbs a comfortable mess. This time, he’s got his head resting against your chest, cheek pressed right over your heart.

Michael starts to hum something, a tune you don’t recognise . A melody, unfinished. “What’s that?”

His voice is even quieter now. “Don’t know yet. Saving it for us.”

Outside, people still talk about him and light up when his name is spoken. The world watches, always. Still, in this room, in this bed, wrapped around each other, right here he’s just Michael.

[scentedpepper]

Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Max Mayfield hosts a pool party.

Content Warnings: Use of the F-slur, Use of Queer in a derogatory manner, Injuries, Verbal Abuse, Abusive Household Dynamics, Reader makes a 'if I wanna kms' joke

Other Pairings: Nancy Wheeler x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Max Mayfeild x Male Reader, Mike Wheeler x Male Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Oh brother we got a chatterbox

Had a dream about this ya'll

Readers a little sassy

Reader has a little brother

Reader has a bit of savior complex

Readers also kinda impulsive?

It's 3 am

_________________________________________

The grass was rough and patchy in the backyard, filled to the brim with wilted daisies and weeds crawling through the sprinklers. It was hardly worth a note of much consideration, as there had been nothing of great importance to discuss. There were many trees boarding the house. Pine or oak, maybe. And one dying cherry tree that was a stand alone in the yard. That was about the extent of anything substantial past the old silver fence that matched your shoes.

Nearest the house, under the shade, were several lawn chairs designated for the so-called "chaperones". The older brothers and sisters of the tweens. But really, it was nothing more than a cover-up.

Something to appease the parents' of the Hargrove house because Max knew it was odd to be friends with a group of kids the same age as her brother. Even her mother, who'd tried to remain impartial to any situation, narrowed her eyes and shifted her purse tighter when the suggestion of more than a couple 17 year old's parading around her house came.

Your mom was just happy you got along, let alone made some real friends outside the books, and encouraged the notion. More parental control, she reasoned. Less chances you were off with someone who intended on trouble.

Of course, all the shit about fighting monsters and being on the brink of death with these same friends wasn't factored in.

But no one besides them and the sheriff's deputy needed to know that.

The first time you had met the kids was, admittedly, what one would refer to as a kerfuffle. Riled up and trying to be dominant. Of course, because Billy was there, it spiraled even farther, and someone's head nearly got bashed into a rock.

That someone being you of obviously, after you'd been goaded into the fight and decided to step up. And boy, did Billy hate to lose. Hated being talked down to by a smaller kid who barely had pimples left on his face, let alone bulk.

You put up a good fight. You had a mean hit, especially the lick you gifted to Billy's chest, knocking the wind out of him when it connected. There was a bruise on his ribcage for days after and all the satisfaction he could possibly imagine at knowing it was from you.

But then he nearly killed you so, things turned sour rather quickly.

Which led to a rather impromptu welcome into the group of misfits, the lot of them. Unannounced and unexpected, you marched into the party after your small break down. Ready to be let in and accepted.

Finding out about the Upside Down was a mere accident.

You hadn't gone out of your way to befriend a group of children. Hadn't expected much in regards to friendship period even after getting your ass kicked by Billy Hargrove. Let alone a lifetime, one built from the shared experience of the horrors that lurk just underneath town, attached to one particular boy of the group.

But here you were. Standing in the backyard of Max's home like an idiot with the sun bearing down at your back. The late summer day nearly reached over 100 degrees as the clock neared the noon hour. Something you might have missed otherwise if it wasn't for the black analog watching you closely every time you renetered the house for a drink.

The main gaggle of kids swam and screamed every few seconds, trying to drag you into a half-baked game of Marco Polo that had the older Hawkins teens eyeing each other with concern.

You tapped the top of your can to ease the anxiety, looking around the edge of the yard again, past Max's mother, who waved awkwardly and would come around every so often, offering drinks or food to you, Nancy, and Jonathan.

"Nervous?" Jonathan prodded in his way, looking up from the half eaten sandwhich Will had taken two large bites from, making sure he had gotten his fill and packing it away when he received two big thumbs up from his little brother before he rentered the pool.

"Ah. " You leaned against the lawn chair, rolling your neck before looking over. "Expecting Billy to jump out from one of these corners, " you gesture towards the many hiding places you have spotted in the yard. "cause a scene. "

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, twisting her skirt slightly. "Not yet, at least. " She added while fidgeting with the button over the waist. "I thought he'd show up at least half-way through this thing. "

"Yeah, " you agreed, "thats why I'm–"

"On edge?" Jonathan filled in for you, a soft smile gracing his lips as Will looked over.

"Ready, he means. " Mike piped up, his hand was fully plunged into the cooler chest, blindly shifting around the ice as he looked over at the three.

Something in the tension held firm in the pit of your stomach, because the only times that this happened was whenever a confrontation was supposed to take place.

And judging from all the past events that had occurred, however mundane or fantastical they may be, this was probably going to end badly in more than just a couple of ways.

You'd managed to keep pretty calm in the past concerning Billy. Kept a level head about whatever shit he'd decided to cause that week. But something felt wrong today. That air in your gut had been hard to shake.

And the fact he had yet to make an appearance so far, did very little in easing you. And apparently everyone else involved.

"Don't know what his fucking problem is. " You curse, sitting up in the chair, "Never waits long to start shit."

In fact, you can almost pinpoint the time he entered the premises, an excuse to blame him for the sudden tightening in your gut and the goosebumps on your skin. Yet, he hadn't entered the backyard once since he got home. He stayed holed up in his room the entire day and that much was evident every time you, or Nancy, or Jonathan or one of the kids entered the house and heard the rock music blasting from his bedroom.

He hadn't even made a shadow to have showed his face.

For hours you waited.

Hours of worry and unease ate away at your gut while the rest of the party commenced unhindered.

And yet, it seemed all but for nothing in the grand scheme of things. Because as the sun started to lower from its zenith, you and the rest grew more tired and eventually, the temperature started to cool to a point where splashing around in the pool was no longer appropriate.

The kids came clamoring out, dripping in more chemicals than water, screaming and laughing in the process. It was getting near the five hour mark by then.

Your mind was heavy when you stood up to go inside, nearly tripping when your eyes clashed with the eldest person in the home, the both of you freezing awkwardly in the middle of the walk.

Both you and Max's mother were silent in each others presence. Stoic if there was ever a word for it.

Neil always seemed to be staring off into nothing, zoned out to some far away place only those who drowned themselves in alcohol and other momentary pleasures existed. They didn't interact, besides maybe the occasional conversation starter, or nod in passing whenever a person came too close for an inch of comfort. Not unusual in your opinion of strained marriages.

You began to speak, went to get yourself out of this weird positioning you've seemed to found yourself in. But Susan beat you to it.

"Can you do me a favor?" She beckoned before turning around and trotting off into the kitchen. Already assuming you would listen. You usually did. There weren't any hidden agendas for her actions and nothing against you personally.

She held some power that you wished wasn't. You would take just about any job that required you to be away from the current obstacles of your personal life. But as she turned back to look at you with that indescribable air and knowing nod, she had beaten you.

"Whats up?" You replied, voice more gravely then you meant it to be as you walked up behind her. She was sticking something into the microwave.

"Bye, Y/N/N. " Nancy had emerged from the Hargrove bathroom when she stood on her toes to place a friendly kiss on your cheek before joining Jonathan.

"See ya, Nance. " You say as the dark haired girl glided away, passing a wave to Jonathan and then they were out the front door.

The house was mostly empty now with nearly all the kids back home, and Dustin and Max tucked away in her room, waiting for Dustin's mother. There was enough silence now that you were itching to leave. The house had settled quiet, but you couldn't describe it as comfortable. There was a ribbed blanket across the couch that had obviously been sat on by its dishelved look.

The TV was on but the volume had been lowered so much that you were better off listening to Billy's faint music from down the hall for entertainment.

Water rushed from somewhere on the other side of the house and the distinct slam of a door being pulled shut gave you the visual to what you were hearing. Your little brother, most likely. You'd seen him dip down the hallway like he was about to shit himself the moment Nancy exited the bathroom.

You shifted around, placing your backside agaisnt the counter as you found new things to look at. Languidly, you watched, senses picking out different things around the house to latch on to. The light green walls, the ugly brown patterns on the carpet, the hum of the refrigerator that, strangely enough, harbored no family photos, just magnets with various corny sayings.

Your eyes lingered on the fridge.

Everything here was simple. Blank like a fresh canvas of dry paint. Apart from the dishes left in the sink and the few items of clothing to be picked up off the ground, it felt oddly wrong for an occupied residence.

"Y/N?"

A shift in the environment rippled over your skin and something felt charged but not in a fearful sort of way. You're pulled from your small internal worry by the same woman from before.

"Billy hasn't come from his room all day, mind taking this to him?"

Susan's got a glass plate in her hand, slightly extended our towards you. It's filled at every turn with food she'd transfered from the tupperware after the ding of the microwave you hadn't quite heard.

That same gut feeling crawled up your insides again, but you blamed the way your throat tightened on the anxiety. Why it was something now and not earlier, you can't be sure.

But, if there's one thing you learned from movies and popular tv shows, it's never to interrupt the motherfucker when he's listening to rock. But, here's your excuse. So, with a small nod and the plate in your hand, you try to shake it all away.

Because the worst that could happen is you get your ass beat again.

Stepping up to the wood slated door gave your lungs a run for their money. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere and the pressure collapsed the walls around you. Only breathing through your nose you shook the fear away with a raised fist to the door, clenched the plate in your opposite hand.

Bass rattled through the floor and past the wooden door, you're graced with the faint sounds of the guitar on the stereo. There were bits of vocals in the background, a baritone voice that spoke. And perhaps that was part of the appeal. Your fingers danced on the metal that resided at the entrance. It felt cool on your skin.

You knocked again after a few seconds. Nothing sounded on the other side of the door but you were still unsure if Billy could hear you above the music. Maybe he'd turn it down once his father returned from whatever place he'd ventured off to in the night. But you didn't exactly have that time to be waiting around, despite your own fathers late tendencies.

You took a moment to think if you should just leave the plate on the floor, let him pick it up, and try to call a ride. You exhaled quickly, shifting your balance onto your other hip.

Before you even touched the doorknob with a single digit, the music turned down significantly and suddenly the atmosphere was more intense than you'd anticipated.

Which, was the new normal.

But, still.

Things felt off. The pressure in your bones caused your limbs to rise upward, to defend yourself, to at least put yourself in some position that wouldn't leave you open to attack.

For what?

You didn't know.

Because all Billy did was peer up at you from the crack in his door. Nothing significant yet his stare was nothing less than striking. Those blue things could put the oceans to shame, rivaling even the sky in its vivid colors. They were a mirror.

They shifted to the food, briefly. Then immediately returned back to you as the speaker could barely emit its sound.

You watched as the boy straightened, sighed and then opened the door wider, leaving the frame unguarded as he trailed off into his room.

The door held open but his gaze disappeared into the space on his mattress, and the music lowered a touch, no longer loud enough to break the door from its hinges but loud enough that Billy had to raise his voice over it to be properly heard.

You took a cautious step forward after staring at the boys backside, his attire didn't leave much to imagination but his half nude state was the least of your discernment seeing as one, you were fashioned the same way and two, Billy Hargrove was wordlessly inviting you into his room.

You thought maybe this was some kind of trick, a ploy to get you cornered, so your eyes danced over him in brief, consistent glances as you proceeded forward.

He was sitting by his window, a cigarette stuck between his two fingers as he silently stared off into the the darkness the world outside offered.

It was strange. Seemingly off guard as he propped the knee of one leg against the window, giving a free range to his left to lean. Hair swept over the shoulder to show part of his sharp jawline, which dimmed only with each intake of the deadly nicotine.

The room was bland save for a few posters, white walls, brown dresser pressed against a corner and a night stand tucked at the opposite. Clothes were tossed about, either on the floor or hung up half assed on something that you could only guess as a proper hanger.

His nightstand was covered in trash and empty beer cans and you thought of shoving them away before deciding to place the plate on his bed instead.

You spared him a last glance after the action, perplexed by the fact he was just so— quiet. Which, was certainly odd to everyone at least within half a mile from here. Usually the moment you entered his space, his bubble, he erupted like an animal defending its territory.

You decided not to push your luck. Because right now, it felt like the deadly cat across the African plains simply hadn't noticed you. And so your steps were as carefully placed as they had been when you entered. It was almost relaxing despite the looming feeling from the boys demeanor.

Billy felt a wave, a sort of ripple through the air as the presence of another remained in the room. He didn't bother to speak, only raised the unlit cigarette to his lips in a curious manner and took an unsteady puff, letting the wind carry the smoke out the screen. There was a storm, one he had sensed earlier but was hard to make out amongst the many things that had clouded his mind with anger.

Luckily, the only thing he could blame his outburst on earlier this morning was exhaustion, a clear sign of his lack of sleep from the night before which would easily explain his half dead posture and irritability that had pissed off nearly everyone around him.

Another explanation for his hideout in his room but one you couldn't quite understand.

You neared the exit when the floorboards creaked just as they had before and you almost wanted to freeze in your place. Like the cat would come pouncing now, mauling you to death.

"Not gonna make a show of it?" Came Billy's voice, it was low and calm but you caught the slight strain of it. As if he needed a clear of his throat to even be fully heard.

"A show of what?" You cast a glance over your shoulder, brows knit.

The blonde gestured with his lips, the subtle shift in his elbow drawing attention to the stick of tobacco. "I was waiting for some goddamn spectacle, L/N. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, Billy. " You sounded exasperated already and you stepped over a black shirt with a design you couldn't quite decipher from its crumpled up state. You made sure not to add anymore scratches to the ground and turned around, placing your back firmly against the door frame.

Billy's muscles became tense with the new body turned on him and he felt the wave again, the stirring of new energy entering the atmosphere.

But you had simply done so so that your back wasn't uncomfortably to him when you left.

"Whatever. " Was all Billy seemed to say before shutting you out, shoving that fucking piece of shit plate away from him. And in the split second your brain focused on how fast food was supposed to get cooled and not nearly three seconds after swallowing his cancer stick Billy must've caught the attention of the devil himself.

There was no denying the jagged yell, the shuffling in his voice like someone was gripping his head and holding it under water. You jumped away, eyes as wide as saucers as Billy's bedroom door flung open, smacking the adjacent wall with a loud slam that nearly cracked the plaster from the force.

And yet, his voice was a lot less louder than his grand entrance. "Hey, shit face. Why don't you make yourself useful instead of sitting around all day, having our guests, " he gestured to you, "bring you your own fucking food. "

You moved a step back, almost tripping on your own footing from your struggle to balance yourself without the solid sense of feeling. Your eyes darted frantically between the two people within your viewing distance, and you could barely make out Susan a few feet away who had her hand clasped on Max's shoulder.

She was ushering her daughter to their bedroom but Max refused, and the red head stood beside the door with a wary look.

"Get up. And give him a ride home. " Another gesture to you and when you looked towards the entrance of Billy's room again Neil was taking up the entire frame.

"That's really not–" You began but stopped as both of the parents turned to look at you with an appalled look. It was nothing personal but you doubted Billy even knew where you lived and the only time you ever rode with him was pervious to when he'd beat your ass.

"My dad–" You tried again.

"He won't answer the phone, much less pick you up. " Susan jumped in, though the hesitation on her voice made you doubt if that was her plan all along. "Your brother got a ride with the Henderson's. "

"Put on a shirt, stop acting like a balless queer, and go. " Again Neil thrust a drawn out, mocking tone, like his son couldn't comprehend basic sentences and he stepped out of the way to make room for your departure.

Billy's got a storm brewing in his expression and there was one moment where his eyes met yours and you were sure you'd drown in all the hate there was.

You didn't get a chance to argue about the amount of time it would take to get there and about how you would manage on your own. In fact, something in Max's eyes told you it'd be better not to. So you pressed your lips against each other as Billy grabbed his keys and pushed past you.

You watched Billy stalk past everyone, a gruff 'Yes, Sir' leaving his lips that you almost hadn't heard as he passed his father.

You exited the room shortly after, not sparing Susan or Neil a goodbye as you gingerly took your shirt from Max's hands.

She made a comment, something quietly spoken that not even your heightened hearing could make out over Billy's obnoxious slamming of the front door that he knew he would pay for later. You watched the young girl as she returned to her room.

Silence welcomed you when you first stepped into the driveway, stretching across the cement with a sense of uncomfortablity that didn't seem to fade as you entered the car and were met with a chilling quiet.

Billy didnt look at you as his ignition roared to life, nor did he speak to you as he pulled out the drive way. He stared ahead, chin down as he leaned just slightly forward, supporting an arm on the side door, palm rubbing soothing circles into his temple.

He was going 20 above the speed limit. You assumed you two were trying to get as far away from the house as you could. But, the further into the neighborhood you went, the lower the numbers on the radio dropped and the more the car filled with quiet music.

Hargrove was completely out of it, lost in some other space where you weren't welcome. And the car had filled with a tension you doubted he'd meant to cause, but given his current mood, you didn't think he could avoid it either.

Despite this, you chose to press yourself against the door with a turned head, the muscles in your body growing taut with discomfort the more you tried to make it seem as if you weren't even of existence in the passenger seat.

You wanted out of the car.

That much you could draw from your mind when you found that the speedometer was at 55 and increasing.

"Billy. " You tore your gaze from the meter, flickering over the silent boy who was intent on looking only at the road ahead.

No answer. His jaw was tightened and set. There were lines buried in the skin.

"Billy. " Your voice held a certain firmness that he didn't quite like.

Silence still and he tightened his grip on the leather, knuckles turning white. The streetlights were getting ready to cast those obnoxious eyes and like a perfect chain of events the little hairs of a certain song burst from the speakers.

His hand, fast with anger, whipped across the volume dial, ceasing the tune and replacing it with the rumble of the engine.

An inhale, then a single word. "What. "

Somehow you think that's the opposite of an answer. It's barely a question. With the tone of voice he held he shouldn't have phrased it that way because he clearly didn't want to know what you had to say, what you thought.

"Stop the car. I'll walk. " It was simple enough and on any normal occasion Billy might've done just that rather than wasting his gas on you. But tonight was different, and Billy, seemingly fueled by his own agitation, just blew past the stop sign and sent the speed at which the Camaro rolled up with you at dangerous levels.

The car vibrated lightly beneath you, air whistling as you tore through the neighborhood at an alarming rate.

"Oh for fucks sake. " It was a mutter to yourself because you hadn't exactly expected the boy to be cooperative but you didn't think you'd be forced to jump out of a moving car again. Yet, here you were; gripping the handle, poised like a god damn animal, eyeing the road as you built up your goddamned gallantry.

You didn't catch the surprise on Billy's face when he noticed you push the door open against the harsh winds.

Fuck it.

You fell with ease and with a soft oof! your limbs were somehow able to stand the blow rather than becoming mangled chunks of meat against the pavement. You could hear the car skidding to a stop five houses down as you took a moment to roll around in your own pain.

Your shirt had rode up on your torso, back pressed against the heated road as your skin made contact with the tar. You had a few scrapes along your spine, one over the delicate hip bone. And you were pretty sure the road had peeled the skin on your forearm all the way down to the elbow but hey, at least it wasn't your fucking face.

A few drops of blood gathered on a pebble directly to your right. Your nose gave a sharp twinge of pain.

"Dick. " You said that in regards to him, for every aspect of his personality. Because Billy Hargrove was what others considered a giant dick.

If you hadn't suspected it before you were sure when you heard the wheels start to turn again, the shift of a gear springing the Camaro back to life. And then footsteps, louder than the car itself, were slapping against the asphalt.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" You raised your head, eyes coming to focus on Billy's very fucking pissed form towering above you. Arms crossed defensively, face twisted with irritation as he glared down at you with something close to— well it looked a lot like anger but Billy only knew one of three emotions and that was definitely not concern.

"Fuck you. " You managed through a puddle of blood in your mouth that you promptly spit out, only having realized it was there the moment it began forming bubbles when you tried to speak.

Billy's voice stuttered in reply. "What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to fucking kill yourself or something?! "

"Better than death by fucking vehicular manslaughter on the account of Billy fucking Hargrove. " You muttered, hands pressing into the road to give you leverage when you attempt to stand up. Your body immediately yells a no to this action and you lay right back down on the road.

"What?" Billy is completely distraught in the sense that his brain has seemed to burst due the sheer incomprability of your actions.

"Oh I don't know, Billy, maybe the next time I feel like killing myself I'll call you and we'll go a hundred miles an hour off the fucking side of a cliff. "

The boys eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline as he stared at you.

"Watch me die like an old school movie where they're surrounded by bubbles and colors and shit. "

You spit the last remnants of blood from your mouth and Hargroves face ran red and blue. "Can you fucking shut the fuck up and get up already before anyone sees you. " He demanded, practically dancing around your form. Arms stretched out with a stance that reminded you very much of a gymnast.

"No. No. I think I'll lay here for a sec. " You roll onto your backside, a groan in your voice, arms folding over your body, posed like a corpse.

Billy stops in his antics and stares at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious, yes. " Your voice almost comes out like a sigh.

Billy reels, and if it wasn't for the fact your eyes were sealed shut now, you'd be able to see the absolute bewilderment of the teen as he stood there in the middle of the empty street. Arms half poised over you but not touching your form. As if he didn't know what do with you.

"...Get up. " He demands, standing straight again, his hands on his waist. This time he's not commanding you in that cold manner. There's a little rise to his voice like he's beginning to lose his patience, his forehead furrowing with anger.

You take another few moments to enjoy the silence. You swear you hear a cicada or something squeak from a window sill nearby and the air felt cooler than it has in weeks. Until it all becomes overbearing and your chest burns from a lack of oxygen. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

You open an eye to test the waters.

Billy's scowling now, a hand on his hip and the other resting across his forehead in disbelief. At you or the situation, you weren't entirely sure. Both you imagined. But there was a certain look on his face like he was ready to pull some kind of theatric, a reaction, throw a punch to knock some sense into you but ultimately decided against it.

"Where do you live?" He asked the question in such a manner that you couldn't help but be wary of his intentions.

"...Why?" You asked, the caution obvious in your voice. As he loomed over you like that... it wasn't doing a whole lot of trust building.

You almost hear the growl of frustration from his throat as he began rocking on the balls of his feet, hands swinging like he wasn't able to grab hold of something. "So we can fucking go. Before someone calls the fucking cops. "

You still hesitated.

"Before I fuck you up so hard they'll have to identify you by your fucking sperm. " Okay there were his threats. But they lacked the substance of his normal demeanor. He didn't seem overly angry like he typically did but still, his body gave some kind of look as though he couldn't quite will himself to control the way it trembled with adrenaline.

"Nice one, but you're not my type. " Another bite and a second of Billy looking absolutely befuddled as he tried to keep his voice down. His glare had weakened but only because he was taken off guard, and his cocky expression fell to a tight line.

You watched as he took a moment to look around the empty street. The lights weren't too bright so you couldn't make out that typical, telltale flush of his skin that you've grown accustomed to in his anger.

Your eyes flickered across his face, scanning every inch like a beacon. Curiously, you looked at him the same way he always did. Maybe you'd find some sort of answer hidden somewhere behind his icy blues.

The look on his face was strange. Pensive.

"Get up, Y/N. " An even voice this time. Calming maybe. And to think, all it took was a slightly gay comment in order to simmer the violent bastard.

You half wondered where the fag-bashing erratic moron went. Maybe he'd packed his bags and runaway. You could hope.

You did more than that infact, you put that right there on your bucket list, and with a frown, more for yourself than anything else, you looked away from the boy above you.

"Fine. Alright. " Your movements were stiff with pain as you moved to push yourself up by the palms of your hand, your arms trembling beneath the weight. The skin on your hand and forearm burned with a stinging sensation.

Billy watched at your pathetic attempts, a sneer or two on his face but he didn't seem to offer much help until it'd all get too pathetic and he had to reach out and aid you.

"Idiot. " His lip curled as his palm met yours, his fingers holding onto the back of your hand tight as possible.

You stumbled slightly upon becoming fully upright, teetering against Billy for a moment as you took a minute to regain your ground.

"Yeah, well whose fucking fault is that. " You've developed a lovely habit of hissing through your teeth with an unnecessary amount of spite. You're surprised Billy hasn't knocked you on your ass and left you for dead by now.

He scoffs, trying to put as much distance between the two of you while still having your arm linked through his, helping you along. To the ignorant eye, you suppose this would look platonic enough but anyone that knew the two of you well would certainly think otherwise.

Billy's all rigid limbs and stunted movements. Even when you'd finally started to walk on your own and your grip on his arm began to slack, he held firm with a grip like a vise.

And by the time you're at the passenger's side, he's shoving you into the seat and you nearly knock your head on the top of car.

You didn't bother giving a remark when he practically seethed through his teeth, slamming the door in your face. He strode around the car like a man on a mission.

"If you go more than 5 over the speed limit—" You felt the warning die on your tongue when you saw the look of pure anger etched onto Billy's face.

"You'll jump out. Yeah. " His hand came down on the shifter. "Got it. "

There was a part of your brain that you didn't recognize that was screaming in terror, completely and totally convinced you were going to die tonight at the hands of the ever brooding Billy Hargrove.

But much to your surprise, Billy maintains that 5 mile leway the entire drive home even when there's barely a car in the streets. He hadn't muttered a single word since throwing his angry body in the driver's seat.

Instead, he'd cranked up the music all the way as if it'd some how compensate for the lack of speed and conversation, not that there would be much to say anyway.

You hadn't bothered looking at him. He hadn't bothered looking at you. But somehow, in one way or another, the feeling as if you were watching each other was even more abundant in the silence.

Whatever hostility had remained from Billy's mood in the first half of the night had receded back into his depths for later. Though the occasional frown on his face never quite leaves no matter what, his eyes are softer now.

And by the time he's pulling into the dirt driveway of your home, the soft beams of amber and yellow from the streetlights dimly hitting half his face, there's no sign of anger or any real semblance of emotion. It's oddly quiet, and the only thing to really speak up was the steady rumble of the engine.

"Thanks. " You beckon quickly and with reluctantance as you awkwardly grabbed at the door handle, trying to turn as quickly as you could while still maintaining balance. Anything just to get out of his car and away from the guy.

"Y/N. " He voices and the moment you pull at the handle you come to find it's resistance. A dull tingle shoots up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck raises with tension.

You turn, facing the teen who kept an unconcerned façade. He was a calm still pond with blue eyes flickering like small waves in the face of a strong wind, and although most times they were ice and snow that held such a cold, unforgiving passion of arrogance, there were times they were the ripples of a breeze.

Now was one of those times.

"Don't go around pulling fucking stunts like that. "

That was definitely closer to a warning than anything else that had come from his lips the entirety of the night.

"This is coming from the guy who beat my ass into the concrete two months ago. " And at this point, you were too exhausted to be filled with spite for the boy.

His posture falters and not just figuratively. There's a shift to the way he's sitting but the flicker of his eyes remains. Even with you half turned, his stare remained. In fact, it seems to have gotten all the more intense.

"What's it to you anyway? " The way he tilted his head might have been endearing in another life. Now, it seemed to hold meaning, the way a predator stalks its prey with such observant behavior before sinking its teeth into its jugular.

His gaze on you could have bored into your brain, much like a drill for how quick your defenses seemed to start dissolving.

He'd always looked at you like this. Whether or not you caught his eyes on you was by chance.

In class, in the halls, it was all the same to him. He'd get one look and that was about all it took. He'd stare with the attention like an interrogation, as if trying to decode some secret behind your stature, trying to pick you apart bit by bit with those watchful baby blue's of his. And if there was no easy route to doing that he'd dig his little meat hooks into you until there was.

You were all he'd focus on. Not you in particular. More so the idea of you.

Whatever that meant.

Of course the only instance Billy looked at you without fail, hard looked at you like the blue was about to spill out of his eyes and swallow you up like a tsunami, was when he was a little tipsy or riled up with heat and fury. But like most of Billy's emotions, they were very intense. Too intense for something as simple as just a fucking stare. It almost gave you the illusion of a dangerous threat that made your skin buzz with goosebumps, your nerves rattling in their sockets.

He was doing the same now, except, the only difference was that he wasn't pissed faced or smoldering with alcohol this time. In the confines of his car, beneath the yellow white shine of the nearby street lights, he couldn't tear his gaze away even if you begged.

Billy was the sort of thing to stop you mid thought when you glance and feel your limbs freeze, suddenly petrified with all this uneasiness and sudden confusion as to why there was only one sort of definition to put on why you felt such things whenever his presence was met with a hundred paces of distance.

"I..." He starts but his voice falls flat. Something beyond frustration, something between anger and concern. The sort of look that told you he was working something out in his mind. Or he just couldn't find the proper word choice that didn't end in an f-bomb at the end of his sentence.

He's still staring, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, like a candle wick in the night. Wavering. Stuttering. Inconsistent uncertainty.

Like he's just asking for guidance to fill his barren vocabulary, the words never existing like an undiscovered civilization in his brain, unable to conjure up the sort of speech that would get him what he wanted.

An abrupt sense of panic washed over you. You inhaled sharply and you didn't let the breath go until your next move was placed in front of you like a chess piece on the board and you couldn't take the time to think out any future moves on your part.

All of your attention was pulled to him, focused entirely. The way he moved, the way he breathed, it left a tingling feeling trailing behind him like some faint breeze of emotion.

Everything stilled, it was him and you. Him. And you.

And he's just looking at you like that. Mouth halfway opened and the noise of shallow heavy breaths were the only sounds falling from his lips while he's looking at you all wide-eyed, like some fresh-faced virgin whose never seen one in person before.

You cursed yourself. Cursed the wind. Cursed the ground. Cursed Billy and his stupid face. And every corner of his stupid car and everything else about him. You can curse the sun but that'd probably be a step too far. Especially the moment you met those watchful pools of sea foam.

Fucking Billy Hargrove and his stupid, fucking car and his even more stupid...

Lips.

Lips and teeth.

Teeth, pale pink lips.

Blue eyes, long lashes.

Stupid fucking curly hair.

The sort of curly where it always managed to get you by the tips, tangling its brambles in your fingers and refusing to let go.

Which is why the second Billy made a small noise– not even really a noise, it's a breath. A single exhale that hits your nose, hits you the way nothing has before, and it causes a wave of heat to wash over you, overtaking your senses.

You grab those curls, your fingers entwine them and his breath is alot heavier, alot hotter as his hands grip tightly onto your shirt, like he's a frightened child.

His lips are wet.

He's messy.

Sloppy.

Like he's never kissed before in his life. Lips that keep moving, and his tongue is too sensitive, too eager.

Every sharp inhale of breath reeks of sweat and chlorine.

There's no time to stop and make sense of the situation.

He's scrambling over the middle console, desperate hands gripping on your collar and in any other scenario, this would've been the step before he plummeted his fist into your face. But there's hardly anything suggesting that. At least not without the time to see the tiny trail of tears lining Billy's eyes, glossing his cheeks.

He tastes as he looks. Like liquid gold with his tongue rubbing against yours in a hot mass of burning motion. And any semblance of a rational train of thought was chucked out the window.

There was enough room in the front seat for a teenage boy and then some. Billy Hargrove was not such a teenage boy. There was barely enough room to shift and breathe and wriggle around in this half straddle.

You can faintly hear a heavy car pass over a mound in the road, an off balance tire or perhaps someone forgot to inflate it and the uneven troll on the road, not entirely deafening, but it's there. And Billy hears it and he jumps from you, leg grazing the shifter, head knocking into the top of the roof.

His ears are steaming red as he all but falls into the driver's seat, face flustered and hair slightly disheveled.

He's looking around like a wild animal caught in a trap and he can't escape, eyes flickering back and forth; from the gearshift all the way to the rear view mirror and then to your face.

Pupils shot open, dark and wide, and a hand coming up to press on his forehead, eyes squinting.

"Billy‐ " It's a start, but it doesn't stay long enough to be deemed a full sentence, not with his name lingering on your lips while you try to swallow down the heat in the pit of your stomach. Billy's looking at you, breathing heavy.

"Get out. " He mutters forcefully, the lock clicks open and when his hand comes up to rub across his face, it's shaking.

"Billy. " More insistent this time.

He looks a few shades redder than when he was before, his head snaps back to meet your stare, hair curling beneath his ears in a gentle mess, curls threatening to fall into his face.

"Get out!" His voice pitches, breaks into something close to a sob and Billy swings his arm wildly, fist connecting with the steering wheel and there's a loud honk as a warning before he shouts again. "Get the fuck out, you fucking faggot!" His voice reverberates across the entire neighborhood, shattering your ear drums in the process.

There's dogs barking from far away, probably due to the horn.

You hesitated but only for a moment before swinging the door open, just barely missing the opportunity to knock the shit out of your leg by the time Billy decided to slam down his foot on the pedal. The door shuts fast. The car speeds off before it has the chance.

You watched him drive away, with just as much intensity as the boy inside the car watched you in the rearview.

As your house began to shrink away into the distance, and the glare of the car grew smaller and smaller. You could hardly see those searing blue eyes the way you did in class. Though this time, instead of a look of hatred or scorn, it was one of fear and dread.

And maybe, just maybe, if there were more light shining on his face, it would reflect a thousand scenarios playing on his cheeks. Not that you would've been able to tell from all the way out here.

"Fuck. "

[thebroccolination]

“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”

Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!

Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:

[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)

Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”

So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]

There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)

Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.

Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.

I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.

I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.

Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.

[storiesforallfandoms]

the ice cream girl ~ mike schmidt;five nights at freddy's

word count: 2144

request?: no

description: in which his regular ice cream spot in the mall hires a new girl

pairing: mike schmidt x female!reader

warnings: use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Mike's routine at the mall was a constant: clock in, do two laps around the mall, go for lunch with whoever else was on with him - usually Jeremiah - another few laps around the mall where he'd stop to talk to some of the store managers, then clock out and go home. The only deviations to his routine were the occasional birthday parties he'd be tasked with watching over, and whenever there was someone who needed to be handled by security.

Until he met a new worker at the mall.

He was in line for the ice cream place he would occasionally go to for a dessert after his lunch. They saw him so frequently that his order was usually ready before he even got to the counter - another usual in his routine.

But on this day, when he walked up to the counter, a new face was smiling at him.

"Welcome to Ice Cream Parties," she said. "What can I get for you?"

Mike opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Cindy, one of the usual workers, saying, "We have his order, (Y/N). He's a regular."

(Y/N)'s eyes flickered to Mike's security uniform. "Well, that does make sense. Sorry, today's my first day."

"No, that's alright," Mike said. He desperately tried to think of something else to say, but found himself staring blankly at her instead. He was sure she thought he was crazy, and that thought made his face start to heat up.

Cindy came up to the counter with Mike's usual in hand. She passed it over to him with a smile before going back to work. Mike realized then that he hadn't paid yet. As he started taking his wallet from his pocket, (Y/N) said, "On the house."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

She nodded. "Consider it a kind gesture for a regular."

"Well...thanks."

"No problem. It's nice to meet you, Mike."

He was about to ask how she knew his name, but she nodded to his name tag before he could.

Right, that would make sense.

"Nice to meet you, too, (Y/N)."

After that, visits to Ice Cream Parties became part of Mike's routine. The first few visits were under the guise of actually getting ice cream for himself and Jeremiah. If it wasn't too busy, he was able to have brief conversations with (Y/N) while his order was being made. That excuse didn't last very long, though, as eventually Jeremiah put an end to the almost daily ice cream runs.

"Man, I'm going to gain like 10 pounds a week if you keep getting ice cream for us," he had said.

Mike had to admit, he was getting sick of eating ice cream so much, too. Seeing (Y/N) so often had made it worth it at first, but there was only so much of the frozen treat he could take before it became too much. He thought he'd have to come up with a new excuse to see her all the time, but she took him by surprise by doing it for him.

He was doing his rounds during a shift when he saw (Y/N) walking towards him. She had a smile on her face and she waved when he spotted her.

"Hey!" she said. "I've been looking for you?"

"You have?" Mike asked.

"Yeah! I haven't seen you in a bit. I was worried you quit or something."

"God, no, that's not happening. This is probably the easiest job I could have. I've just...been taking a break from ice cream."

"I don't blame you. You've had so much of it lately, I'm surprised you're not just a walking ice cream cone at this point." She playfully bumped his shoulder as she added, "You know, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn't need an excuse."

Mike was shocked into silence. Had it really been that obvious? He had tried to play it cool when he went, but maybe he hadn't been cool enough. Maybe it had been glaringly obvious every time he walked up to the counter and ordered whatever new flavor she recommended that he was desperately trying to figure out a way to ask her on a date.

But then she smiled and laughed, and Mike felt a weight being lifted from his chest.

"I'm joking," she said. "Mostly. If you wanna talk to me, you don't need to come buy ice cream. Just come talk to me."

"Noted," Mike said with a nod. "Well...what are you doing this evening?"

"I'm working the closing shift."

Mike tried not to let his disappointment show. "Oh. I, uh, I'm off in about an hour."

"I clock in in about an hour."

"Not meant to be, I guess."

(Y/N) shrugged. "I guess not. I have to run a quick errand before work, but I mean what I said - don't be a stranger, Mike."

Mike nodded. Once (Y/N) had turned and walked away, he let himself deflate. It wasn't a "no" because she wasn't interested, but it was still disheartening. It was definitely going to take time to build up his courage to ask her again, but at least now he knew she welcomed his company.

A week or so later, Mike found himself at the mall again on his day off. He usually hated to be there when he wasn't working, but Abby started school the next week and she needed new clothes. She had been begging him for weeks to take her shopping, but he kept putting it off until he had no choice but to take her. On the plus side, Abby was extremely easy to shop with because she knew what she wanted, and she knew where to get it. It would be a quick in and out and he could be away from the mall within an hour and a half tops.

But, after leaving Abby's favorite store with the intent on going home, Abby stopped Mike and said, "I'm hungry."

"We have food at home," he reminded her.

"I don't want actual food. I want a snack."

"We have snacks at home."

"We don't have ice cream at home."

That was enough to shut him up and get him to agree. He had no idea if (Y/N) was working that day, but he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see her.

As luck would have it, she was working. She was at the counter in her stripped apron and white paper hat. She was passing the customer in front of them an ice cream, her customer service smile plastered on her face. Mike had come to learn the difference between her customer service smile and her real smile, because when she would look at him the dull smile would brighten just a little.

When the customer stepped away, he got to see her face light up at the sight of him.

"Oh, hey Mike!" she said. "I thought you were off today."

"I am. I had to take my sister back to school shopping," Mike said, gesturing to Abby.

(Y/N) looked down at Abby and offered her a warm smile. "Well hey there. I had no idea Mike had a sister."

"This is Abby. Abby, this is (Y/N)."

"It's nice to meet you, Abby."

"You too," Abby said. To Mike she added, "Is she the one you always talk to Max about?"

Mike's ears were on fire as (Y/N) looked back up at him. Abby always knew how to say the right things to embarrass him.

"Just tell her what you want," he muttered, suddenly no longer in the mood for ice cream.

Abby ordered for herself and (Y/N) went to make it. Cindy took over at the cash while (Y/N) stepped away, which disappointed Mike. Usually Cindy was the one making the orders while (Y/N) was at the cash, and they'd have their small conversations while Mike waited. He really hoped what Abby had said hadn't scared (Y/N) off completely.

She came back and handed Abby her ice cream.

"Are you guys sticking around much longer?" she asked Mike.

"We weren't really planning on it. Abby just wanted ice cream before we went home."

"I'm off in, like, 10 minutes. If you guys don't mind a third, I mean."

Mike agreed without consulting Abby. Not like the younger girl really cared either way. She was already deep into her ice cream and ignoring the whole conversation.

Mike and Abby sat at a nearby table to wait for (Y/N). Abby finished her ice cream in record time, giving herself a brain freeze. Mike couldn't help but laugh as his sister scrunched up her face in pain.

"That's why you don't eat cold foods that fast," he said.

"Do you like (Y/N)?" Abby asked through the brain freeze pain.

The quick change in topic startled Mike. "I mean...yeah. She's my friend."

"But you like her," Abby said. "You always talk about her, and I saw the way you look at her."

Mike shrugged, trying not to give Abby any other ideas. He didn't need her blurting something else out and embarrassing him again. "She's a friend, Abby. Friends talk about friends."

"Friends don't look at other friends like they want to kiss them, though."

Mike chuckled. "Some do."

Abby gave him a look. He sighed and said, "Maybe I do, but that doesn't give you permission to say stuff to her about it, okay? For now, we're just friends."

"You should ask her out. I think she'd say yes."

"It's not that easy, Abs."

"What's not that easy?"

Mike jumped at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice behind him. When he looked at her, she was already changed out of her work uniform. "Nothing. Abby and I were just talking."

He shot Abby a look to tell her not to say anything. (Y/N) looked between the two of them with a skeptical look on her face.

"Do you have a ride home?" Mike asked.

"If you're offering, then yes. I was supposed to wait around for my roommate to get me, but I'd much rather hang out with you guys and get out of here."

The three of them walked to Mike's car. Abby filled most of the silence by talking to (Y/N) about whatever came to her little mind. (Y/N) just smiled and responded as Abby spoke. Mike would sneak glances at her and smile to himself.

Abby got into the car first, and as Mike was reaching for the door handle to get in himself, (Y/N) said, "Wait."

He paused and looked up at her, confused.

"Why haven't you asked me out yet, Mike?"

The question took him completely by surprise, but that seemed to be her specialty at this point. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was some stuttered nonsense.

"I mean, if you don't like me then that's fine, I get it," she continued. "But I thought that maybe we had a connection, and I keep thinking you're going to ask me out and then you don't, and I'll be honest, I'm losing my mind a little bit."

"Whoa, whoa," Mike said. "Slow down. I'm sorry that's how you're feeling, but I've been trying to ask you out. I did ask you out a few weeks ago!"

"That wasn't asking me out! You asked what I was doing and I said working. You didn't even follow up to try and figure out a different day we could've went out instead!"

"I didn't know I was supposed to do that!"

They both paused and, after a moment, they started to laugh.

"I'm clueless with this stuff," Mike admitted. "I haven't dated since high school."

"Well, here's a tip: if you like a girl, ask her out. Her liking you back is more likely than you'd think."

Mike smiled. "Do you want to come over for dinner? I'm sure it's not exactly the date you're thinking of, but Abby wants spaghetti and meatballs tonight, and I do make a mean spaghetti and meatballs."

(Y/N) smiled back. It was brighter than her real smile. It was what Mike decided to dub her "Mike smile".

"I'd love to," she said. "I love spaghetti and meatballs."

Abby opened her car door then and looked between the two of them. "What's taking you so long?"

"Hey Abs, would it be okay if (Y/N) joined us for dinner?" Mike asked, although he already knew the answer.

Abby lit up with excitement and vigorously nodded her head. Mike and (Y/N) finally got into the car and they made their way back to Mike's place. The entire car ride he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

[toseesoclearly]

The WSQK Bunker Map Wall: What Does It All Mean?

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

hi no surprise here, I am obsessed with the map wall from last week’s leaks, let’s talk about it!

This post contains spoilers from all ST5 content and leaks so far, pls leave now if you’re avoiding any part of that.

first off, the fact that they gave us all the clues…

We can see tape and scissors are on the table of this shot of everyone in the WSQK bunker from the BTS video, along with a container with a green cap (of pins?). that plastic blue bin is also helpful to anchor us whenever it shows up in a shot.

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

Note, a) the overall table spread places this in the WSQK bunker officially and b) the bags hanging out there also put Will & Jonathan in this scene. I think it’s likely the full group is here at this point, meeting sometime in mid/late 5.01.

So, the map wall itself! They are projecting a grid onto a map of Hawkins, and the grid's columns are labeled by letter. it's a safe guess that the rows are labeled by number, a not atypical convention in certain kinds of maps and, of course, spreadsheets. 

The color coding in the cells seems likely to be indicating the concentration of something in a given zone, since many of the cells on the right are lighter, and on the left there's some stronger yellow, orange, and more intense almost pink/red. Basically like conditional formatting on a spreadsheet, and inventing projector spreadsheets in 1987 would be a classic Nancy move tbh. 

So, the group is systematically tracking a phenomenon across town. What could it be? Upside Down activity of some kind is a likely candidate. 

Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve take a drive maybe after this in a WSQK van when it’s outfitted with the antenna. Another relevant big open Q: What exactly is the function of the antenna? Boosting radio signals is an option, esp since they put it on Steve’s car before that group’s expedition to the Upside Down in 5.04 - but I think the fact that they’re using it before now, in tandem with this new evidence they’re tracking something, has me leaning toward: the antenna detects Upside Down activity of some kind, maybe strong or abnormal electromagnetic radiation.

Lucas and Mike are also both wearing military gear. If this is 5.01 (it's at least not later than 5.02 based on Nancy's outfit), what are they doing suited up for a mission so early? I’m not sure if their task is related to what’s going on with the map wall or not, and unfortunately unlike the teens I don’t think we have enough info to do anything more than fully guess right now. (I am also mostly guessing for the teens, but I’m grateful for pieces that are even that little bit closer to coming together…)

This makes our vague and incomplete picture of the movements of the groups in Night 1:

Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve leave in the WSQK van, which based on the discussion above may be a shift in a patrol system (just a disclaimer, this is the highest potential bad data point on this list, since we don’t have visual confirmation of this entire group together here, just set rumors),

Lucas and Mike are off in mission mode together (also feeling like a task assigned as part of the full group’s strategy),

Will is being sketchy by himself, at school on his spooky tree adventure, and

Karen and Holly are at home, enjoying some chill time and then being attacked (and you’d think Ted should probably be there too but truly who knows???)

So: this leaves Dustin, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, and El as our remaining fully unaccounted for parties. (And Murray and Erica, but I think they’re more likely just living their lives.) 

They may end up as part of the above groups, or may be doing their own thing(s). Probably at least some subset stays at WSQK, especially if Hopper, El, and/or Joyce are indeed living there.

But like everyone else who we know is out and about on Night 1, they all probably get pulled into something that prevents them from changing their clothes the next morning - and actually get stuck wearing these clothes what’s looking like pretty late into the next day or even the day after until they finally change in episode 3.

(Hopper is maybe the exception, I can’t place his first outfit change but it feels out of sync with everyone else - and El is the exception in the other direction since she’s stuck in her training get-up maybe through 5.06 or later).

Tunnel Time

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

But the still not the only asset the leak contained related to the map wall - there was also this (wonderfully, very high res) version of the Hawkins map wall, collage squares and all, overlaid with the s2 tunnel system. I would say this is a strong indicator that s5 will include a version of the map wall with that same overlay.

We’ve known the tunnels will be back for a while now based on various BTS glimpses and crew allusions to s2’s importance. But very exciting confirmation! 

If the still with El, Nancy, Lucas, and Mike in front of the map wall and grid is in the first couple eps, it’s possible the tunnel projection happens later. In fact, I think that’s likely - “The Crawl” being the first episode title gives it a special weight. I do subscribe to the theory that has been commonly speculated for the 10,000 years that the title of 5.01 has been one of the only pieces of information we’ve had about s5 that “The Crawl” is a plan (that Mike probably comes up with) where the tunnels are used to move around Hawkins a la a DnD dungeon crawl. But because of the likely timeline for when they actually use the tunnels throughout the season, it makes sense to me that the plan is concocted but not necessarily enacted during the first episode (and also there may be some double or more meaning going on).

I still don’t totally understand what their goal with the plan is if they come up with it in episode 1. But maybe it’s as simple as they’ve been aware the military is up to some funny business and are seeking a way to access their downtown base.

The other WSQK big group meeting we’ve seen so far we can now likely place later in the season, when Nancy is in her candy striper dress and Hopper and El are either not present or out of frame. (We know Nancy returns to WSQK in candy striper attire, with Steve and Jonathan both still wearing their first outfits in ep 3 based on this BTS photo.)

So, is this when they’ve switched to projecting an overlay of the tunnels map? Will and Joyce make sense as the presenters, as the S2 Tunnel Map cartographer and its #1 assembler. 

A relevant additional question: Where does the tunnel map projection come from? Either Will is keyed in enough to the Hive Mind* again that he can produce this at the appropriate scale (which you would think everyone would find pretty alarming but I know they’ve got a lot going on, plus that might not be the worst of his extremely haunted behavior atp), or they get a copy of Will’s s2 map from somewhere. So unless there was some documentation by the Party in s2 before they cleaned up the Byers’ home, that would probably involve a trip to the Lab…

*I also don’t have a great read on the supernatural mechanics of this, are the tunnels themselves still something the Hive Mind is experiencing now memories of or did the Mind Flayer leave that behind in s2, how much of this dynamic does the Party even understand (we know they - ahem Mike - have a tendency to be overconfident about their level of UD-related expertise)??? but yes feel free to fact check me on any aspect of this.

Anyways, some tunnel observations of interest to me, and maybe also you:

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

Tunnel that crosses under the library, probably the access point to the military barracks where Robin, Mike, and the kids are in Maya’s leaked script. I think this also indicates this map is not full-on nonsense, since it seems like this matches a season plot point. 

The chunk taken out of the library rectangle on the map seems to correspond to where the building collapsed at the end of s4. Weird thing to show up on a street map if they’re not thinking about post-s4 lockdown Hawkins specifically. On that note, the shaded area is probably the downtown district, but might indicate the new military base? Though I don’t think the perimeter matches for the second option.

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

Tunnel under the hospital, we know a fair amount of action goes down there

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

Major tunnel convergence under the Middle School, ominous

[image redacted bc of copyright strikes :( ]

Elementary school also looking very tunnel accessible

Appendix: Yes the map contains errors, but I think we can still take it seriously

Look: there is some weirdness on the map. While it contains lots of familiar place names, a few key landmarks or street names you'd expect are missing, or show up oddly. No Maple Street (that I’ve been able to find) nor Hawkins National Lab. Cornwallis is there but feels off, terminating in the middle of town and never intersecting with a Kerley. And the tunnels don’t go out to Lovers Lake, which of course is how Bob identified that Will’s s2 drawings were a map at all.

Basically, based on what is there and rendered according to a logic that matches what we’ve seen on screen (and more importantly what we’re expecting to see), I think the production design team prioritized cohering with a few specific s5 location-based plot points (with a little bit of s4). We’ll see what happens, it’s possible there is something more reality bending going on, but that seems like the simplest explanation at this point to me. That also makes the Hawkins National Lab’s exclusion - the biggest thing I was hung up on - even make in-universe sense, considering it’s been closed for three years. So, with that in mind, I do think they did an impressive job generating something that passes muster even if you’re like, how do you not include Mirkwood or Maple come on…

Also, if I am correct about the above, the landmarks they did label and we haven’t seen in the show yet might be worth thinking about… 

so, yes, lots of observations without too many answers or clear theories. as to Q: What Does It [the WSQK Map Wall] All Mean?, the real truth is A: We do not presently have the information to know. however, that does not keep us from theorizing and I would love to hear what others think! I believe this is a real key to unlocking the season's overarching plot.

[partypooper1324]

Why Byler needs to be canon (and will be)

I know that this has been said before, but Byler being canon would change so much when it comes to queer love being depicted in movies and TV-shows. If one of Netflix's biggest shows can have an extremely well-written and overall beautiful queer love story between two of the main characters AND in a show that is not being only advertised for a gay audience like, for example, Heart stopper, that means that so many doors would open for queer representation in media. So many new shows would be open to representing queer people correctly (instead of using queer people in shows for brownie points) and normalizing queer characters.

If Byler isn't canon, then that would be tragic for not only Will's character, but also the queer community. My first ever post on my blog was me saying that if Byler isn't canon, then stranger things would be the one of the worst cases of queer baiting. I still stand by this point because if there can be a slide show with over 300 slides proving a queer relationship and it ends up not being canon, then there is no way the directors didn't know what they were doing especially in a show with such a high budget. Queer baiting is devastating for the queer community, but I cannot speak for the queer community as a strait woman so if you would like to speak on any queer baiting issues i'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, if Byler isn't canon, then Will would have been kidnapped by a monster, bullied, been possessed, fought multiple other monsters, fought with the US military, and then on top of all that, he would confess to his crush who is a man in the 80's and been rejected. Give my man a break and let something good happen to him. This has to be my biggest Byler proof because the Duffer brothers already have queer characters in their shows so I don't see them queer baiting their audience. By the way, they don't even need to queer bait because they already have such a big audience.

Now let's talk about Mike. Again, I've seen people discuss this fact before, but if Byler is not canon, then the Duffer brothers are horrible writers. What explanation could there be for Mike becoming such an asshole to Will for no reason in season 3 and 4 if there could be no internalized homophobia? This character shift would make absolutely no sense because Mike and Will have been best friends for years, so Mike being so awkward when seeing him in the airport would make no sense. He had no problem hugging Will before he moved to California.

In season 3, Will asks to play DnD multiple times and Mike tells him that he's growing up and talking to girls which means he isn't interested in playing "childish games" anymore. He tries to be normal as much as possible this season and to grow up. However, what does little ol' Mike do after Will leaves? He joins a DnD club and he expresses to Lucas that he doesn't have any desire to be popular. This switch would again, make absolutely no sense.

Another big detail is that when Mike goes to California, he goes back to trying to be as normal as possible, as said by Finn Wolfhard. So, when Will is around, he feels the need to be normal and avoid his feelings for Will which he sees as childish (INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA!!!!). There is a video on YouTube by loser sits by herself (go watch it if you haven't already its amazing) where she goes into depth about Mike associating his feelings for Will with being childish, so that would explain why he wants to grow up in season three, but then not having this desire after Will leaves because he doesn't need to because Will is no longer around. If Byler doesn't happen, then what would be the explanation for this switch??

Let me know if you think I missed anything and thanks for coming to my yap session.